


The Progenitor

by silverspidertm2



Series: The Changeling Sequence [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Family Drama, Fluff, Gen, Parenthood, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverspidertm2/pseuds/silverspidertm2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Will is everything." It was a lesson her father had drilled into her from childhood. Talia wondered when she might finally have the will to do what was right and end it all. Sequel to "The Changeling" and "The Guardian".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to third and last installment of the Changeling Sequence. This story is going to be a big different from its predecessors. For one thing, it's going to be far darker, especially given the DC canon it will be based on. It will also be probably closer to the feel of my other long Batman fic, Deluge in the Wasteland. In fact the scene in first few paragraphs borrows directly from the ending of Deluge. And, as the title suggests, this story will focus more on the parental figures (all of them) than the children, though of course everyone from the previous two fics will be heavily involved. Hopefully with this story I will be able to tie up all the loose ends introduced in the other two fics. I hope you enjoy and please review!

_In her dreams, things are different._

_In her dreams she’s holding the child of her blood, and she’s not alone as she had been in reality. Her beloved is with her, his hand a comforting weight on her arm as he smiles down at their newborn son. There’s another young boy in the room, the child of her heart. He regards his baby brother with some apprehension but mostly curiosity and excitement, then reaches out to touch the infant’s cheek._

_“I thought babies are supposed to be cute,” he comments, and both new parents laugh._

_A picture perfect scene._

Long dark lashes slowly fluttered open as the early morning sun hit her lids, and Talia lay there for a long moment without moving. She was awake, but all of her attention seemed centered on the sensation of the warmth of the rays on her skin and the feel of the Egyptian cotton sheets beneath her fingers as she wondered just what felt so very wrong. Realizing what it was, she screwed her eyes shut.

 _Simply a dream_. Talia hated the good dreams perhaps even more than the nightmares. They were reminders of all her mistakes, all the things she ever hoped for and could never have. She opened her eyes again, looked at the clock on the nightstand, and rose with a sigh.

The shower was gloriously hot, the pressure from the powerful jets massaging the back of her neck. She lathered some shampoo into her hair and was just about to go for the body wash when the shower sliding door to her right clicked open. The man she’d thought she left sleeping in the other room unceremoniously stepped in. Talia gave him a look, but he simply waved his hand dismissively.

“I know.” His lips quirked into a smile. “It’s morning, and you’re not in the mood.”

She wanted to be annoyed, but her own mouth curved slightly. “I suppose even the world’s greatest detective has to pick up on a detail like that after a few decades.”

Bruce’s smile widened. “Wonders will never cease. Pass the body wash?”

Back in the bedroom fifteen minutes later, she was almost fully dressed and reached for the security id on the table. Her photograph as well as the large L of “LexCorp” greeted her but before Talia could snap it onto the pocket of her perfectly tailored business suit, a strong arm wrapped around her waist while the other hand plucked the id away from her. She scowled, especially when she felt herself being tugged against a still-very much naked chest.

“You are getting my clothes wet,” she complained. “I need to go to work, Bruce.”

“No, you don’t.” Alright, that was valid.

“I like working. I may very well go mad if I did nothing.”

He didn’t have to point out that of all the jobs in the world she might have chosen anything _but_ LexCorp. It was just another discussion that they did not have to have because both knew just where it would end up. She could never do enough to make things right, and Bruce was too pragmatic to begin a conversation that could go in circles at best.

“You know what we’re doing, right?” Bruce rested his chin on her shoulder, his arms still encircling her. Talia sighed, resigned to both being late for work and having to change into a new suit, and leaned back against him.

“We are having an affair.”

It was the thought they had both been having for months, since shortly after the first time he had come Metropolis. And it _was_ an affair, even if neither had taken any other lovers since well before it began. There was an unspoken mutual understanding that no one was to find out about it. Talia did her best not to think about the fallout if that ever happened.

“Have you ever…” he began then stopped, apparently following the same train of thought that had just passed through her mind. He wanted to ask if she’d ever thought of stopping or better yet going out in public together, of returning to Gotham with him and telling their children. The truth was that the prior was an inevitability she tried not to think about. The latter was a dream she had no right to hope for.

“I think,” she turned to face him, mouth curved in a seductive smile as she placed both hands firmly on his naked chest, “I may be able to miss one day of work after all.”

He grinned and tugged her back in the direction of the bed, and for the next few hours Talia forgot that it was morning and she was really _not_ in the mood. Really. It was another two hours before either spoke again. With the warmth of the bed and his body beneath her, Talia felt relaxed and sated. And safe… don’t forget safe. She was nonetheless surprised that it was her who broke the silence first.

“When do you leave for Gotham?”

Beneath her, Bruce shifted, his forehead crinkling in thoughtfulness. “Maybe the later part of the afternoon. I should get back before the end of the day.” She gave him a questioning look, and he elaborated. “It’s Tim’s birthday, and it’s the first time neither of his parents will be there.”

Talia rose on one elbow. “You should go now, then.”

Bruce shook his head and smiled, pulling her back down toward him, and she got the feeling that he had reasons for delaying his return that he was not sharing. It was not crucial, and Talia tried not to think about the fact that she had missed both of her sons’ birthdays. She was not certain if she might have contacted Jason on his - though sure that he would be angry on his Damian’s behalf that she’d reached out to him alone - but just a month shy of the actual date, she received a surprise text.

_Celebrating this ‘birthday’ now. Thanks._

It took only half a moment for her to recall that it had now been a year since his return to consciousness in the Lazarus pit. Smiling, she typed back. _You are most welcome, darling._

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

People dealt with grief in about a thousand different ways. Some strategies were better than others. Jason often wondered where on that scale his righteous fury fell, knowing full well that it was probably not on the healthiest end of the spectrum. He did, however, knew for a fact that Tim hiding under the blankets again was no better which was why he only gave the younger teen till eleven o’clock before knocking once on his door then swinging it open a moment later without waiting for a response.

“Up and at ‘em, birthday boy,” he announced with more cheerfulness than he’d ever thought would come out of his mouth. “Let’s go. Breakfast or lunch or whatever is ready.”

“I don’t want to go out.” Even with the covers obscuring everything, Jason could tell he was making a face.

“You don’t have to go out,” he assured him, “but you _do_ have to get up. There’s waffles downstairs with your name on them.”

“Alfred’s waffles are like paste.”

Jason smirked. It was a not-so-well-hidden secret that the only thing Alfred couldn’t make was waffles. Everyone in the Wayne household including Bruce knew that, but no one dared even hint to the old butler that anything he made not perfect.

“I know. That’s why I made them.”

At this, Tim tilted his head rising slightly on one elbow. “You can cook?”

“I love how it’s a surprise to everyone.” He rolled his eyes. “Former street kid, remember? If I didn’t learn to cook, I’d be eating worse garbage than I did. Don’t give me that look. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to get up. Downstairs in fifteen, okay?”

Tim groaned but nodded. Trusting that he would find his way down to the kitchen soon, Jason took the stairs two at a time and arrived just in time to watch in mild horror as Damian took an enormous spoonful of honey and began to shovel it onto his waffles. He was about to ask why his little brother didn’t use syrup like most people then remembered what part of the world Damian spent the first eight years of his life in and held his tongue. Still he was not about to deal with a sugar high nine-year-old, especially considering what was planned later. Jason grabbed the spoon out of Damian’s hand and dunked it back in the honey pot just as the boy was about to add more.

“I think you thoroughly drowned them, little D,” he told his brother. Damian gave him an annoyed look, but Jason leaned in conspiratorially and whispered. “Remember we have cake later.”

“Chocolate cake,” Damian made a face but complied and reached for his knife and fork, leaving the honey alone. He tore of a piece of waffle. Next to his seat, the enormous black Great Dane sat up expectantly and licked his chops.

“No.” Jason’s tone was a clear warning. “Don’t give the dog stuff from your plate. He’ll get sick, you know that. Come on, Ace,” he snapped his fingers, and the hound instantly pivoted in his direction. “I’ll feed you.”

When Tim came downstairs, Jason had just finished filling the dog bowls. He straightened and taking one look at the teen’s oversized black t-shirt with the stylized red ‘S’ in the center, rolled his eyes at Tim.

“I’m judging you.”

The teen shrugged. “Bruce isn’t here.”

“I’m still judging you. Sit down and eat your waffles.”

Tim didn’t seem terribly bothered by this and dug into the food in front of him without great vigor but enough that Jason didn’t feel the need to prod him again. The expression on his face when he tried a bite of the waffles told him that Tim had been pleasantly surprised and from then on the teen ate with a little more enthusiasm. Pleased, Jason picked up his cup of coffee. He looked at the kitchen clock.

“Seriously, kid, you might want to change after breakfast. Something non-hero-like and something you didn’t sleep in.” He looked at Damian. “You too. No pajamas today.”

Damian opened his mouth, no doubt in protest, but Tim beat him to it. “You said I didn’t have to go out today.”

“You don’t, but…”

At that precise moment, the front doorbell rang.

Jason sighed and looked at the teen. “You have about five seconds to get upstairs and change or risk a _lot_ of embarrassment. Not that we all won’t enjoy it, but as your big brother it’s my job to give you fair warning.”

Still looking puzzled, Tim nevertheless slid from his seat and padded for the door but stopped and looked back at him.

“You’re good at it, you know.” He gave him what had to be the first smile of the day.

Jason tilted his head. “What?”

“The big brother thing. You’re really good.”

And with that he disappeared down the hallway and up the stairs. Jason pressed his lips into a tight line and tried very hard not to think of Dick and the fact that they hadn’t spoken in months. Instead he looked at Damian.

“Are you planning to stay like that or what?”

The boy shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not _my_ party.”

“Your call, kiddo.” He was already pivoting, moving towards the front door. “If the girls think your Batman jammies are ‘adorable’ it won’t be my fault.”

At the door within just a few long strides, Jason nevertheless waited a few more seconds until Damian was upstairs before opening it. Seven individuals were looking back at him with various degrees of excitement. Jason didn’t know which - if any - of them had ever been to Wayne Manor before, but Bart Allen and Garfield Logan looked just about ready to jump out of their skins, Conner Kent and Cassie Sandsmark were craning their necks for better looks inside, and even Raven looked mildly interested. Not surprisingly the first thing out of Bart’s mouth was:

“Dude, throwing a party at Batman’s place? Ballsy.”

Jason, who’d made a bet with himself about which of the Titans would ask the question first, dodged. “Louder, kid. They only heard you in the palisades.”

Allen turned a brilliant shade of crimson to match his hoodie, and Cassie gave him a light smack upside the head. Jason grinned.

“Come on in, guys. Ground floor is fair game, but save everyone a lot of trouble and don’t touch my dad’s stuff. Any of it,” he added pointedly. “The birthday boy will be down in a sec.”

The younger trio and Garfield all piled past him, but the second blond-haired girl who looked like she was trying very hard to pretend like she wanted to be there lingered on the threshold until Raven gave her a gentle nudge inside. Jason didn’t have to guess who she was.

“You must be Mia,” he tried to make his tone as mild as possible. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she nodded once, her smile strained and tight-lipped, and Raven ushered her inside leaving Jason alone with the last guest remaining on the steps. He surprised himself that he wasn’t nearly as angry as he thought he would upon seeing the man again. Still his demeanor must have been less than warm because Connor Hawke raised his hands placatingly.

“I don’t want to fight, Jason. I’m just trying to keep an eye on Mia.”

A part of him wanted to physically bar the entry to the house and demand Connor tell him where his brother was and when he’d be back, but that bitter angry part voice in Jason’s head was not as loud as it once was. He knew where Dick was, and it was far from Connor’s fault that they weren’t talking. Besides, picking a fight would have been less than a great example to set for Tim and Damian, and… well, Jason liked to at least try to live up to the faith his younger brothers seemed to have in him for some unfathomable reason.

So instead of something biting, he settled for a truer statement. “Hey, man, I get it. Got younger siblings, too. She okay?”

Connor looked visibly relieved and sighed. “Some days are better than others.”

“We all know what one. ‘Specially in this house.”

Far from being a big fan of either Oliver Queen or Roy Harper, Jason could nevertheless sympathize with the loss and splintering of a family. Mia, who from what he’d heard had already had enough tragedy and hardships in her life, didn’t deserve to have to deal with the chaos that was currently going on in the Queen household. At least Connor seemed to be a responsible adult, even if his father had yet to get there. Jason had to respect him for that and even more so for his next question.

“How’s Tim?”

“Hanging in there. I think he’ll be happy to see his friends at least. I want today to be one of his good days.”

He extended his arm in an open invitation, and Connor stepped inside. Tim must have come downstairs by then because he heard his brother’s voice among the excited chatter from the kitchen. The teen poked his head out the door frame and grinned at Jason mouthing, _Thank you_.

 _You’re welcome, kid,_ Jason nodded back and congratulated himself on a mission successfully accomplished.

“So,” Connor tilted his head towards the group of teenagers in the kitchen then glanced back at Jason, “just how _are_ you getting this past your father?”


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore how many of you are concerned for Jason when Bruce gets back. See what happens!

Jason let the younger teenagers have free reign over the enormous tv and game consoles in the main living room while he hung back towards the hallway and chatted with Connor and Raven. Connor, he noted, made sure that he stood in such a way that gave him a direct line of sight to Mia. The girl was talking to her friends, but she didn’t seem terribly upbeat. Tim, on the other hand, looked like he’d done a complete turnaround from the morning which pleased Jason immensely. He returned his attention to Raven.

“Victor regrets not being able to attend today,” the young woman said.

“It’s okay,” Jason nodded. “We’ll have to do a trip out to San Francisco sometime anyway.”

It went unsaid why the last one had been cut short. The trio was quiet for a moment until the noise of the teens’ video games was interrupted by the patter of feet coming from downstairs. Damian was almost all the way at the bottom before he paused and tilted precariously over the railing. Jason turned his head towards him.

“Hey, little man. Come to be social?”

 _You should talk!_ said his youngest brother’s eye roll loud and clear. That was fair, Jason supposed. He hasn’t been the most social person for most of his life. Truth be told there were very few people he liked outside of his family, but Jason was trying. This time it was mostly for Tim, but it still counted as far as he was concerned. Those in the living room couldn’t see him from their angle, but Connor was smiling at the boy and even Raven’s usual even expression seemed warmer. Damian ignored them and looked at his brother.

“Do we like these people?” he asked as if no one else was even there.

“Most of them,” Jason replied without missing a beat then jabbed his thumb at Connor. “Jury’s still out on this one.”

Damian - who still had a some trouble identifying sarcasm - frowned, but the fair-haired man just laughed. Jason tried for the more straight forward approach he knew his brother tended to better respond to.

“They’re playing Mario Kart. Why don’t you come down? I think Yoshi’s still open.”

Intrigued, Damian trotted the rest of the way down the stairs and past him into the living room where he unceremoniously plopped himself down on the floor between Tim and Conner Kent much to the chagrin of both teens. Tim handed him a game controller and restarted the race. Instantly Mario, Toad, and Yoshi appeared on the screen in their little go-cars.

“Don’t just let him win,” Tim advised the Kryptonian. “He’ll know if you do.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “As if he could.”

Jason rolled his eyes at the friendly scuffle that had become all-too familiar by now. Next to him, Connor Hawke looked at his watch, then into the living room towards his adopted sister who looked like she was very actively ignoring him. Jason watched as Connor checked his watch again, then excused himself and walked across the room and physically took Mia aside. Whatever the conversation was only someone with super human hearing would have been able to listen in, but in the end Mia stalked away into the hallway more visibly angry than she had been all afternoon.

Connor had an utterly defeated look on his face when he returned back to where he and Raven were waiting. The young woman tilted her head slightly.

“Would you like for me to speak to her?”

“Yes, please.” Connor took a deep breath that he let out very slowly. “God knows she doesn’t listen to me anymore.”

Raven nodded and disappeared after Mia. Jason nudged him.

“You want coffee? You look like you need coffee.” Connor raised a brow. “Hey, it’s 5 A.M. somewhere. Come on. We have the good stuff here.”

Once in the kitchen, he set the kettle on the stove, poured some beans in the grinder, and pulled out the larger coffee press. Connor sank heavily into one of the kitchen chairs and Jason leaned back on the counter as he waited for the water to boil.

“So,” he said far more nonchalantly than the situation probably warranted, “sibling angst, huh?”

Connor but his lip then spoke quietly that Jason almost didn’t hear him.

“Mia… skips her medication,” he said slowly. “She says she forgets, but I don’t buy it.”

In that very clear moment Jason thanked any higher power out there that his biggest conflicts with Tim and Damian that say were about t-shirts and sugar intake. He remembered the moment in an alley in Bludhaven almost a year ago now when he’d gotten between some thugs and Damian. Those few terrible heartbeats had been the scariest of his life, both prior and after his own death and resurrection. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have that kind of lingering fear ever-present.

“Don’t know there’s much you can do other than be there.” Jason wished he had something more to offer. “She seems like a smart girl, tough. I’m sure she’ll figure it out.”

“If she keeps on like this, she won’t have the time to figure it out.” The fair-haired man shook his head and sighed. “Sorry to bring this all to your doorstep. Again. After Dick...”

“Nah ah,” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Dick and I are big boys. We’re pros at these pissing contests, and trust me when I say this one has nothing to do with you. Maybe with Harper, but not you and _definitely_ not Mia.”

A silence fell across the kitchen only to be interrupted a moment later by the whistle of the kettle. Jason returned his attention to the coffee press and poured in the boiling water. When the aroma of the coffee began to waif through the air, he turned back to Connor who was looking at him curiously now.

“What did Roy do?” he asked. “I mean, I know he can have kind of an abrasive personality, but is there a specific reason you don’t like him?”

Jason briefly wondered if he actually wanted to say anything. To bring up the fight in Vegas was bound to open up more topics that he hadn’t discussed with anyone other than his father and Dick, though the latter conversation did not go well. Still Connor had shared something intensely personal with him so it only seemed fair.

“He bad-mouthed my mom.” There were other reasons, but this one was the only one Jason couldn’t see himself getting past. Connor frowned, and he just knew the other man was thinking that he didn’t even know he _had_ a mother. As far as Jason was concerned, he’d had a few too many. To save Connor the trouble however, he amended. “Okay, he bad-mouthed _Damian’s_ mom.”

“Oh.” Connor’s eyes widened as realization bloomed across his face. “Really? That seems… stupid. And maybe a little suicidal if what I’ve heard about you is true.”

“If you’re referring to my anger managment issues, then yeah, all true,” Jason beamed.

“Actually,” Connor smiled. “I meant your devotion to your family.”

“Who said that?”

“Dick did when he left with me. He told me not to take anything you said personally, because you were only angry on your brothers’ behalves.”

Jason decided to let him have that belief. That was partially true, but a tiny part of him, the part that was willing to admit it, knew that as much as he’d berated Dick about leaving their family so soon after the murder of Tim’s father, the truth was that much of that was mainly that Jason himself had felt abandoned, that his brother had chosen some junkie over him.

“I think about before sometimes,” he confessed. “I was pretty much an only child before my death. Then I woke up and Damian was there. Came back to Gotham, and there was Dick and now Tim. It’s been almost a year now, and you know what I figured out? Having brothers is so, _so_ much better than being alone. You know that, and I bet Mia knows it too, even if she’s not overly happy with you right now.”

The other man’s smile was a bit sad. “I hope you’re right.”

“Usually am.” They both chuckled. “How long are you two in town for?”

“Till tomorrow morning. Mia wants to go back to San Francisco with the Titans, but I’m reluctant to let her.”

“I don’t know,” Jason shrugged. “Might be a good chance for her to cool off and Raven looks like she might be able to talk some sense into her. Anyway, if you want to stick around we can go to Dave and Busters, shoot some pool, darts…” The other man laughed. “Yeah darts, Hawkeye. Not to turn this into some Wayne/Queen family rivalry, but I’m pretty sure I can take you.”

“Hawkeye?” Connor tilted his head in clear comprehension.

“You know, ‘cause you’re Connor _Hawke_ , and the archer from Avengers is...? Comic books?” When all he got was a blank stare, Jason threw up his hands. “Oh, see, now you _have to_ stay long enough for me to educate you. You’re almost as bad as Damian.”

Connor tapped the side of his coffee cup thoughtfully then nodded after a minute. “It may be a good idea. Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to your father, get some legal advice on a few things. With Oliver in prison, I’m not sure what to do, not just with Mia but also some of our bigger assets.”

“Yeah, go for it,” he shrugged. “He’ll be back later tonight, so stop by Wayne Tower tomorrow morning and you should be able to catch him before his meetings start. Want to grab lunch downtown after?”

“Sure.” Then as the earlier statement sunk in, Connor started. “He’s coming back tonight?

Jason just rolled his eyes in response.

* * * * * * * * * *

Bruce returned to Gotham a little before eleven o’clock at night which gave him enough time to return to the manor, wish Tim a happy birthday, see Damian, and then head downstairs to the kitchen where Jason was dutifully helping Alfred with the cleanup. The eldest of his children still at Wayne Manor turned his head slightly at his approach.

“Hey, how was Metropolis?”

“Fine.” His tone betrayed nothing. “Home is better. How’s everything here?”

“Okay.” Jason merely shrugged a shoulder, and Bruce went to a different counter to pour himself a cup of tea.

“How was the party?” he asked casually, glancing between Jason and Alfred. His oldest friend straightened.

“I locked all entrances to the wine cellar myself, Master Bruce,” he said pointedly, “and checked it after the fact.”

“Alfred is the best co-conspirator,” Jason grinned, putting a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “And the party was awesome. Ask me how many times someone wondered how I was getting away with it when the almighty Batman returned. My street cred is at an all time high.”

Batman’s reputation preceded him. As a father, Bruce couldn’t fathom why anyone would think he’d object to his son’s friends coming over on his birthday - with supervision, of course. Since Jason had already checked with him to make sure he only invited those that knew of their identities in the first place, there was really no reason for him not to allow the teens over. As Batman, he had to admit that the... reputation was useful. He encouraged it, not just among the younger heroes but among members of the Justice League as well.

Bruce chuckled and took a sip. “Easier to ask for permission than forgiveness.”

“Just this once,” Jason agreed.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Are you up for patrol?”

He really didn’t have to ask. Less than an hour later Batman and Red Robin were in the heart of Gotham, perched on the ledge of a tall building overlooking the Gotham City Police Department headquarters. No light shone from the rooftop, but Batman liked to check and make sure anyway. He hadn’t heard from Gordon in a while and hoped that it meant the streets were relatively quiet. Bruce Wayne probably wouldn't have gone to Metropolis if they hadn’t been.

A look behind him showed that Red Robin had already settled down on the rooftop with his back to the railing. Tim had been good at surveillance, but neither Dick nor Jason were particularly patient unless they absolutely had to be. Red Robin made up for it by keeping an eye on whatever direction Batman’s back was to and also taking the time to sharpen his katanas. He was still uneasy about allowing the youth such deadly weapons. He’d watched him closely, but in the months since he took up the mantle Red Robin had not shown any excessive aggression or seriously harmed anyone. Batman supposed it had to be enough.

“Did you ever use these?” Out of the corner of his eye, Batman saw that the wet stone paused in its methodical pass across the metal of the blade. “Or were they more… you know… for show.”

He’d never asked about the origin of the swords, though Batman had always suspected he’d known somehow anyway.

“No,” he replied, “I’ve never used them, but they’re not ceremonial. I wouldn’t let you in the field with them if they were.”

“You didn’t want to let me into the field with them anyway,” the young man pointed out. “You didn’t want to let me into the field at all.”

“Still don’t.” It wasn’t anything he didn’t know, and Red Robin took no offence. “You think _she_ used them?”

“I don’t know.” Batman paused. The swords had been presented to him in pristine condition, but then Talia had always cared for her weapons. “Maybe.”

He couldn’t tell if Red Robin hoped they had been used by their previous owner or if he was the first, and he didn’t get a chance to ponder on that. There was movement on the rooftop a block away. A large silhouette was making his way through the shadows. He wasn’t running or attacking anyone, but something told Batman the man was not supposed to be there. He tapped Red Robin on the shoulder, and the youth was instantly in motion, rising and sheathing his swords. Wordlessly Batman pointed across the rooftops, and he tapped the side of his domino mask to switch to night vision.

“I can’t tell who it is,” Red Robin squinted at the figure. “Not Bane or Grundy.”

“No, not big enough,” Batman agreed. “Come on.”

Silently they made their way across several rooftops to catch up to the man who hadn’t moved far from his position. Only when they were a building away that the thought struck Batman that he seemed to be waiting for something. He almost stopped his approach, but the man turned and stepped out of the shadows just as both vigilantes landed on the rooftop he’d been standing on. Not one to be caught off guard, Batman was nonetheless taken a back.

Red Robin didn’t even bother to hide his surprise.

“Ubu?”


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of lines from this chapter are taken directly from the comic that influenced this fic. If you’ve read it or recognize where this is going, you’ll know just how dark this story will get though I promise it won’t end the same way as the comic. Hope you like!

Red Robin wished he'd enjoyed the few moments in which he'd thought the thug was someone low-level enforcer for a local crime boss. He'd really been looking forward to seeing some action that night. Ubu seemed in a rare non-combatant mood, standing almost relaxed on the rooftop as he waited for them to come to him. The youth tensed as they approached cautiously, mirroring his body language and demeanor to Batman's.

A foot away from the broad-shouldered man, Batman stopped still partially concealed by shadows, and Red Robin took his place a step behind him.

"I don't like being watched," the older vigilante said gruffly. Ubu didn't seem phased.

"I was not sent to fight you, detective. I bear you a message from the demon's head." Ra's al Ghul's right-hand spoke with more calm than Red Robin thought most would exude in when being stared down by the Batman. "He sends greetings and well-wishes, and desires a meeting to converse."

"About?"

"I have no idea. The demon's head keeps his own counsel. That he would share it with you is a great honor."

Behind his domino mask, Red Robin rolled his eyes and tried to hide a snort. "Sure it is."

"Where and when?" Batman asked.

"He awaits you even as we speak," Ubu replied evenly, "in your cave."

Batman's head snapped sharply in his direction, but he didn't have to give the order. Red Robin's hand was already flying to his ear. "Are you getting this, little bird?"

"I copy." There was a small amount of static in his right ear for a moment as back in the cave Tim took himself off mute. It was followed by a faint swishing noise, and he imagined the teen turning full circle in the chair to survey the cave. "Don't see anyone though."

"No, you wouldn't." Ra's was too good to allow his presence to be known before he was ready, but Red Robin had no doubt he was there. "Get yourself out of there now! Go upstairs and wait with the kid and Agent A till B and I get back."

"On it."

The line was muted again, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks that Tim wasn't like him and didn't feel the need to argue every order given. Ra's al Ghul was not in the habit of threatening the civilian inhabitants of the manor directly, and he'd explicitly told Bruce that he'd give up any claims on Damian as recommence, but Red Robin wouldn't put it past the immortal to change his mind if it suited him.

Various scenarios of what Ra's al Ghul might be after kept running through the young man's head all the way back to the manor. Ubu had disappeared somewhere along the way, but he was there by the time they reached the cave, once again at his master's side. Ra's resting in the main chair in front of the large computer screens, something that seriously annoyed Red Robin. He was used to seeing his father or Tim in that place. That annoyance was quickly replaced with curiosity, as he noted that the old man was looking noticeably more haggard than usual. There were far more lines on the immortal's face, his hair almost completely gray, and Red Robin saw a cane leaning against one of the computer consoles.

"You don't look so hot," he commented, even though it was probably out of turn. Ra's tended to only acknowledge the few he found worthy of his attention. Batman was one, but Red Robin doubted he was on that list. Out of spite, he asked. "What do you want?"

To his - and probably everyone else's - surprise, it was Batman who answered. "He wants to talk about your mother."

The immortal's brow twitched almost imperceptibly, and Jason didn't think it was possible to love his father more in that moment. Having failed to uncover the secrets of his resurrection, Ra's likely found him to be of no more value than any other random human on the planet. For Bruce to refer to Talia as his mother implied an elevation in status and association that the immortal no doubt found to be a deep insult. Not that he  _wanted_  to be related to Ra's al Ghul, but acknowledgment from his father on the matter was nice and the look of annoyance on Ra's' face was  _very_  satisfying.

"Actually," the immortal refused to note the comment, "I wish to speak of a different matter, though if you have have any knowledge on my daughter's whereabouts, I would be very much interested in that information."

"No." Batman's voice was flat, and Red Robin wondered if it meant that his father really didn't know or that he was refusing to share. Ra's didn't seem surprised either way.

"As you wish. Then perhaps what we have to discuss is best left between adults."

Red Robin bristled at the insult, but Batman turned to him and inclined his head towards the stairs that lead up to the manor. He might have even argued further but the thought of Alfred and his brothers at the end of that staircase forced his feet onward. He walked past Ra's and Ubu sending both an angry glare from behind the lenses of his domino mask. He didn't remove it until he was inside the manor.

"We have rules about uniforms in the house, Master Jason," Alfred said sternly meeting him at the top of the staircase.

"Extenuating circumstances, Al," he replied, peeling off the domino mask. "The ones that come in the form of unwanted visits from in-laws."

"So I've heard. You may wish to speak to Master Damian. He is… asking questions."

Jason knew where the his brothers were well before he reached the youngest's bedroom upstairs from the raised voices that carried down the hall. Actually it was only Damian's voice he heard. Quickly changing into a pair of jeans and t-shirt in his own room, he crossed the rest of the hall in a few long strides and opened the door without knocking. Tim was sitting at the desk, while Damian was crosslegged on the bed, but the balled fitsts in the boy's lap told Jason that he was angry and ready to bolt at any moment.

"I want to see my grandfather," he said as soon as Jason was through the door. A quick look to Tim told the eldest that it had been the main topic of argument for a while now.

"No," he told his youngest brother firmly. "You can't, and frankly, you don't really want to."

"Yes, I do!" Damian insisted.

"He's not a good guy," Tim tried, probably repeating something he'd already said several times before Jason had come in. Damian just glared at him, and Jason was struck with the thought that comments like that were very broad and abstract for a nine-year-old who had never actually met his grandfather or knew much about him.

"D," he was a little surprised that he was having a little trouble keeping his voice steady, "he's the reason Mom's not here."

The effect was instantaneous. Damian froze and stared at him, and Jason could see from the corner of his eye that Tim was doing the same though likely for different reasons. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to make whatever he told his brother as true as possible without undermining Talia's decision, wrong though he thought it.

"She would have brought us to Gotham herself," he said, "months before the fire, but he wouldn't let her. He didn't want Dad to know that I was alive or that you even existed."

Most of it was the truth, Jason figured. Damian stared at him for another few seconds, then dropped his eyes, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

"Then I hate him," the boy declared, and and Jason wasn't quite sure why but he didn't quite like that response either. He kept that to himself though.

* * *

In his first series of encounters with Ra's al Ghul, Batman had learned that a certain amount of courtesy and show of respect went a long way when dealing with the immortal. Ruthless though Ra's was, willing to sacrifice anything for his goals of an earthly utopia, it was possible to reason with him on a small scale if one were careful. In his younger years, Batman might have even said there were qualities he admired about the man.

But that was a decade ago, before Qayin, before Talia's choice had deprived him of years with his children. He knew he should have hated her above all others, but the person he hated most was the immortal. Even the pretence of respect was far more than Ra's al Ghul deserved.

"I need to do something about my security," Batman commented, more to himself than the other two men present. He'd lost the patience to humor the habit of appearing in the cave uninvited when he'd found out about Jason and Damian.

"Yes," Ra's agreed. One gnarled hand gripped the handle of the chair while the other took the cane, but still he had to look to his aide. "Ubu, help me up." Batman watched as he rose to his feet with obvious effort. Red Robin had been right: the immortal looked terrible. As if reading his mind, Ra's raised still-sharp green eyes to him, scowling. "Spare me your pity, detective. I am merely old, and my current health requires more assistance than usual, unfortunately."

"I'm sure it's only temporary," Batman replied, false sympathy dripping with every word. "What do you want?"

"Many things," the old man mused. "A pristine world, for start. An end to hunger. An end to disease. An end to crime."

Batman showed no visible reaction, but inside he shuttered. It was frightening to be reminded at times how similar their goals were. But, as in all other cases, the ends didn't justify the means, and Ra's al Ghul's means were horrific.

"I want Talia back in my life," he went on. "I want you as her husband and my heir."

 _I was her husband_ , the thought flashed through his mind.  _Briefly_. Instead Batman clenched his jaw. "Never."

"Never is a long time." The man looked down. "I know."

"Answer the question." Batman gritted out.

"Very well." Ra's al Ghul straightened as much as his current age allowed. "I want you to stop murdering me."

Batman was still in the cave by the time the sun was well on its way to rising. Ra's and his henchman had departed an hour prior having received nothing for their troubles, but he remained in the cave in front of the computer, staring without seeing at the blank monitor. Though he'd ordered the immortal out with no indication that he intended to speak to him again, he'd been left with much to think about.

Someone was systematically destroying Lazarus pits all over the globe. He'd accused Batman of the deed, and to be fair Bruce had made his feelings about the pits abundantly clear in the past, but it didn't feel quite so simple anymore. Without the healing concoction, Ra's would have perished centuries ago, and while that in itself was far from tragic, no Ra's meant no Talia, Damian, and very likely, Jason. But, Bruce told himself, that was the past. It was the future consequence of such an action that was worth considering.

Ra's al Ghul was  _dying_.

And as much as Bruce would have loved to say that his first thought was for the definitive safety of his sons from any of the immortal's future intentions, his most immediate thought was Talia. Talia wouldn't have to hide anymore. She'd be free to…

 _To what?_  the most cynical part of him asked.  _She made her choice ten years ago._

_Ten years is a long time. Long time for someone to change. I'm not the same person as I was a decade ago._

He knew he could drive himself crazy with the what-ifs, and would given half the chance. Talia's choices always had been and would be her own, no matter which he considered right or wrong. Besides, the most immediate decision on his plate was whether or not he would investigate the destruction of the pits. It was Ra's' problem, but somehow Batman had a sneaking suspicion it would eventually become his.

It would have to wait though. The pits could wait a day, but the board of Wayne Enterprises would not, and Bruce had meetings to go to, news to deliver from the Metropolis office. He changed and went upstairs. The manor was mostly silent, but Jason met him just as he was passing through the kitchen. He'd just come in from the back yard with Ace.

"The others are sleeping," the young man told him while he poured some water for the dog.

"Did  _you_  sleep?" Bruce asked.

Jason shrugged and he took it as a no. "What did Ra's want?"

His instinct as a father was to say nothing that might in any way, shape, or form lead to his son being in danger. The part of him that was Batman knew better than to keep things from his partner that might affect behavior in the field.

"The Lazarus pits are being destroyed," he said, and Jason's brows shot up. "Hw thought I was responsible."

"No, but that's not a bad idea," Jason quipped. Bruce gave him a sharp look, and he relented. "Fine. Sorry. Do we know who  _is_  responsible?"

"No."

"Are we going to find out?" the youth pressed. He must have been quiet for too long, because Jason relented. "Okay, guess we'll find out eventually. What does that mean for Ra's? Is he…"

"Dying," Bruce confirmed, knowing that there was no point in lying about it. Unsurprisingly he could practically see Jason's mind racing with the implications. Before his son could even speak, Bruce held up a hand. "No, Jason."

"What do you mean 'no'?" The cell phone was already out of his pocket and on the table. "She's been running from him for almost a year now. She deserves to know."

"We don't know who's behind this, why they're doing it, or what counter moves Ra's might have," Bruce said reasonably. "For all we know, things will go back to the status quo tomorrow. To tell her anything now is premature when we have so little information ourselves."

Jason looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually the phone was dimmed. Still his jaw was tight. "I hate the status quo. And I hate it when one of you tells me not to tell the other something and expect me to obey. You know how much that sucks? Though I bet it's a whole lot better than how Damian feels."

It was probably the wrong thing to think about, but Bruce was glad Jason didn't know that he'd been seeing Talia. He didn't want to give him hope when there was little but also wished he had something other than sympathy to offer. Before he could think of anything, the phone on the table vibrated with an incoming text message. He glanced at it and frowned, suddenly distracted from their argument.

"Who's 'Hawkeye'?"


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme of this chapter is very much 'new friendships', both authentic and less so. As with the last chapter, the second half of this one is taken directly out of the comic this story will be referencing and if you didn't guess it by the end of the last chapter, you'll know by the second half of this one. More on that in the author's end note.

Jason was convinced that only the people who were born and raised in Gotham could truly love the city. It was a necessary but not sufficient condition. Far from everyone who fit that criteria could even stand the city let alone love it. A part of him thought that perhaps that was why Dick had so easily retreated to Bludhaven. Everyone in the outside world probably wondered why anyone lived in Gotham at all. The only exception he could think of to that rule was Jim Gordon.

There were certainly parts of Gotham Jason liked more than others. Robinson Park, for instance, was a favorite place to spend a weekend afternoon with his brothers and the dog. He liked the areas on the edges of the suburbs, the typical middle-class neighborhoods which were far smaller in Gotham than in most places. What he really  _didn't_  like was the business district. His father aside, Jason felt unbelievably uncomfortable around the upper-class and avoided going to any and all events thrown by Wayne Enterprise as much as he could. Most of the time Bruce allowed it, unless it was for charity, and in those cases Jason didn't really mind too much. He could always make Tim do most of the schmoozing and not feel even a little bothered that he was essentially hiding behind his younger brother.

"Coffee, Mr. Wayne?"

He looked up from his phone at the waitress who was standing over him with a tray. She was blond, pretty, but looked probably about as star-struck as he had when he was twelve and met Superman for the first time. Jason forced an easy smile, something that always had been much harder for him to fake than for others in his family.

"No, thank you," he replied. It was a fairly high-end cafe, but Jason was pretty sure no place within the country aside from Wayne Manor had the coffee he liked. "Just water and another menu. I'm waiting for a friend."

As it happened, he didn't have to wait long, but when he finally saw Connor walking down the street from the Wayne Tower toward him, Jason did a double take. In his worn jeans and old hoodie, he felt amazingly under dressed.

"How is it possible," he said, eyeing the perfectly tailored suit, "that you look waspier than me? What's with the getup?"

"We're in the business district," Connor waved a hand indicating their surroundings before sitting down. "Besides, I can't exactly show up to talk to Bruce Wayne dressed like…"

"Me?" Jason offered. "Why not? I do it all the time."

"You're his son."

"And you, what, never met him before?"

"It's basic courtesy."

"He's not Hannibal Lecter. That one came by last night." Connor raised a brow. "The demon's head decided to grace us with his presence. Luckily it was short."

"Everything alright?"

"For us? Never better." He figured his father probably wouldn't appreciate him sharing everything, even with a trusted ally, but the thought of Ra's' impending demise was a source of excitement he couldn't hide. "So how was the meeting? Anything useful?"

"Very. He told me how to make sure that no one but myself could access Oliver's assets. I would have included Mia and Roy, but frankly right now I don't trust either of their judgments."

Jason refrained from saying that he would never trust Harper's judgment. Addicts and money were not a good mixture at the best of times. Heaven knew one of the biggest reasons they never had spare cash in their tiny rundown apartment in above Park Row was due to Catherine Todd's habit. Now that Harper was running with Deathstroke and Cheshire and using again, that money was far safer with Connor. Jason had no doubt he'd put it to better use and make sure his sister was taken care of.

The waitress came by again, and this time they both ordered. Jason got a burger, Connor a caesar salad and soup. She offered them a wine and beer list, but both refused politely. Jason wondered if she recognized Connor, but if she did, she made no indication. Green Arrow's identity was public, so even if one didn't know that Connor himself had an alter ego, his relations and Oliver's current imprisonment was enough to make him infamous. Jason, who had long ago stopped looking for things to be fair, though that particular arrangement was particularly cruel.

"Good judgment is always in short supply," he agreed, picking up on the earlier thread. "Did my dad tell you anything about how to deal with your dad being… you know…"

"In jail? You can say it." His tone was harsher than Jason had ever heard it. "He gave me the names of a few good lawyers. Didn't make any particular suggestions though."

Jason nodded. "I'm not really surprised. I know Prometheus was a bad guy, and I'm real sorry about Lian…"

"Oh you don't have to make excuses for Oliver," Connor said bitterly. "Prometheus deserved to die, but Mia didn't deserve to be left alone like this after everything she'd gone through. What did he think was going to happen?"

 _You don't really want him to have walked down that road._  Dick's please from almost a year prior rang in his head.  _If he had, you would've come home and not recognized your father._

He'd scoffed at those words, ridiculed them as just an excuse for inaction, but now the horror of what their family could have become was sitting right across the table from him. Roy Harper had been destroyed by his daughter's murder which, along with Harper's own descent into darkness, pushed Oliver Queen down a path that left a city without a hero and his remaining children without a father.

"Is she still talking about staying in San Francisco with the Titans?" he asked in an effort to distract himself more than anything else.

"She's with them now. Not sure how long I'm willing to let her stay."

"Oh, I know that one. Damian ran away once from me in Bludhaven. I thought I'd have a heart attack. You can always go with her, you know. I'm sure the Titans have room for another archer."

"Star City still needs Green Arrow." Connor shook his head. "Besides, they're good kids, but the Titans are Mia's friends, not mine."

"I hear that," Jason took a gulp of water. "My very brief run with them - the older team - everyone kept acting like I was Dick. Imagine how much I liked that. Though," he smiled wistfully, "it wasn't all bad."

"Girl?" Connor guessed.

"Woman. And  _way_  out of league for the stupid fourteen-year-old kid I was, trust me."

"Well, maybe now that you're back…" the fair-haired man must have seen the look on his face because he trailed off. "Is she… not around anymore?"

"She died." Jason swallowed. "Don't know if it was before or after I was brought back. I didn't ask."

"Sorry."

"Me too." He was quiet for a moment, then shrugged a shoulder in the best show of nonchalance he could muster. "It's not like I'd have a shot even if she was around. Like I said, way out of my league. Amazon princess and all."

Connor looked like he wanted to say something very badly but chose to bite his lip instead. Jason gave him a look. "What?"

"Nothing." The other man took another fork-full of salad, then apparently deciding it wasn't 'nothing' spoke up. "I'm just wondering if we know each other well enough for me to tell you when you're being an idiot or if that's offensive."

Jason barked out a huff of laughter. "Considering how I went off on you the first time we met, and you're still talking to me and are now listed as 'Hawkeye' in my phone, I think we can safely say we're past that point."

* * *

Talia would have been the first to admit that she did not enjoy American cities. She much prefered Europe or the Middle-East, sometimes parts of Asia. There was something about the grandioseness and lack of extensive history that made the cities feel cold to her, and Metropolis was about as American as it got outside of New York. Being in the city was a necessary evil, much like working for Lex Luthor, though she found ways to entertain herself in that department.

Then there were always Bruce's visits to look forward, but he had left two days ago, and Talia knew she probably wouldn't see him for a few weeks. So it was back to her apartment to eat, check on some of her side-projects, and hopefully do some light reading before bed. The driver was already waiting for her outside LexCorp's main tower, dutifully holding the car door. Lawrence, the doorman at her building, greeted her with a cordial nod, and as she watched the lights of the floor numbers change on the ride up the elevator, Talia wondered idly if she could get away with removing her heels now.

She was still wondering that by the time she got to her apartment, but her thoughts were interrupted just as the key slid into the knob.

"It's about time," came a voice from a few doors away, and Talia turned to see a woman with short black hair and a blue blouse poke her head from an apartment down the hall. The woman's look of annoyance quickly turned to embarrassment as she saw her. "Oh! I beg your pardon! I thought you were the delivery man."

"No, I live here," Talia said mildly.

"Right, yeah," the woman looked flustered. "Obviously. See, I just moved in. I've been unpacking all day, and I finally ordered some Chinese, and I thought you were the guy, you know?"

"Sure." Talia pushed her door open. It had been a long day, and she was too tired to pay attention.

"So… uh… I guess we're neighbors. I'm Nyssa." She walked forward and held out her hand. Not to be rude, Talia introduced herself and the two shook hands. "Nice to meet you."

Talia nodded her assent and actually managed to make it over the threshold with a polite, "If you'll excuse me…"

Nyssa looked like she wanted to say something else but her attention was diverted to a tall, bearded burly man talking down the hall with a paper bag. "Hey! Looks like my food's finally here." She took the bag from the man, handed him some bills, and turned back to her. "You… uh… you want to join me for dinner?"

Tired as she was, the prospect of cooking was even less appealing than socializing, so despite herself Talia agreed. Nyssa's apartment was laid out much like her own with the obvious presence of several large boxes still stacked against the walls, but the couch, coffee table, and a blue egg chair were already set up in the living room. Within moments the Chinese food containers were set out onto the coffee table. Talia took the couch while Nyssa sat cross-legged in the chair across from her.

A bit awkward though the woman was, Talia found herself warming up to her, especially after she'd mentioned that she'd been on her own for most of her life, since shortly after her mother's death. Having few precious memories of her own mother, Melisande, before her death at the hands of Qayin in the Lazarus Pit, she could certainly empathize.

"What about your father?" she asked, twisting some noodles onto her chopsticks.

Nyssa shrugged a shoulder. "Haven't seen him for a couple of years. He's basically a bastard. Total control freak. Always wanted me to do what he said, never wanted to hear what I had to say."

"Sounds like my father." Talia nodded, finding yet another point to empathize with.

"You too, huh?" Nyssa reached for the container and pulled out a piece of chicken.

"You cannot even imagine." She didn't think it was really possible to out-do Ra's al Ghul in the stubbornness department. The only person she knew who came close was the one she'd shared a bed with two days ago, and oh, but Talia did  _not_  want to think what that said about her mental health.

The food containers were nearly empty, and the fading light of the sunset was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows to her right. She rose, not wanting to go deeper down any line that a conversation about fathers might start. Talia picked up one of the paper containers.

"Here," she said. "I will help you clean up."

"No, no," Nyssa waved her off, still holding her own chopsticks. "I got it. After all, I invited you."

She went to pick up an empty can of soda, and Talia was about to object out of habit, but then her eyes landed on a strange thin rectangular scar. An inch or two in length, it ran vertically down the other woman's wrist from the base. Before she could stop herself, Talia asked, "What happened to your arm?"

Nyssa went paperwhite. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Talia could not believe how callous and insensitive that had been. "Apologise. I meant no offense."

"No, don't…" the other woman shook her head, appearing to desperately need to clear it. "Don't worry. I just forget it's there sometimes. It's just… from a long time ago."

Not knowing what else to say, Talia nodded and picked up her discarded shoes. "Thank you for dinner."

Nyssa smiled weakly and walked her to the door, opening it.

"Maybe we can… do it again soon? I don't know… I don't know a lot of people in Metropolis."

The awkwardness was back, and Talia felt absolutely wretched. What right did she have to intrude on something which was so clearly deeply private? And after the woman had been nothing but kind, inviting her into her home and sharing a meal with her.

"I would like that," she smiled reassuringly and waved. "Have a good night."

As the door closed behind her, Talia thought she saw the woman grasp her wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. This story will be taking heavily from "Death and the Maidens" though don't expect all the events to play out the same way. For those not familiar with Nyssa's character from the comics, she's very different from what we see in Arrow. The Nyssa in Arrow is much more like Talia than her comic-book counterpart which is much much darker. Stay tuned!


	5. Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for… err… Lord of the Rings here in case anyone's been living under a rock ^^;; And in case anyone thinks Damian is too young, my grandfather read it to me when I was 7. I'm struggling a little with the logistics of writing a story across two cities so many thanks to WorldsGreatestDefective and my awesome bff/roommate who let me bounce scenarios off of them. This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I had to cover this part in order to get to the juicer stuff. Enjoy and please review!

"Again?" Jason made a face in the general direction of the front door that had just closed behind his father. "Really?"

He trot back to the living room and dejectedly plopped on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. Tim, who was  _clearly_  supposed to ask, didn't even bother looking up from his book. The middle of the three still in the manor seemed to be taking Bruce's frequent trips to the Metropolis office completely in stride, but then Jason supposed there was no real change to his routine as a result of it. He still had his school work and civilian friends. Jason, on the other hand…

"How is Red Robin supposed to get any field time if Batman is MIA every other week?" he complained and looked at Tim. "He let you go out by yourself, right, kid?"

"Not so much 'let me' as…" the teen searched for the right words, "not  _explicitly_  forbid me. Sometimes. But then I didn't… err…"

"Die?" Jason supplied to put him out of his misery. "How long is he going to hold that against me?"

"He's your dad, so probably for… ever."

"You are of no help. Absolutely none."

"Sorry," Tim said, not looking at all remorseful. "Maybe he has a girlfriend in Metropolis or something."

"That's hilarious."

The teen just shrugged and went back to his book.

Okay, so Jason knew he was acting no different from a seven-year-old at a first sleepover when separation anxiety kicks in. Damian wasn't having any issues - at least none that he could see - with their father's brief but frequent trips out of town, but something about them just didn't sit well with Jason.

He almost put it out of his mind an hour later when Damian came downstairs, and the three of them set up for the second half of their long-awaited  _Lord of the Rings_  marathon. Jason had refused to watch them with his youngest brother until he finished the books, and Tim insisted on the extended editions which turned the marathon from one day into two because neither Jason nor Damian had the attention span needed for a 12 plus hour long stretch.

As he remembered with the books, the second part was better than the first, encompassing both the battles of Helm's Deep and Pelennor Fields. Tim, who was probably seeing the movies for the tenth time, was only half paying attention, but Damian was thoroughly impressed even if he had some trouble understanding why the characters didn't use the ring or at least entrust it with someone more powerful.

"They should have given it to Aragorn," he argued for his favorite character.

"He's just a man," Tim explained. "Remember what happened to Boromir in the first movie?"

"But he wasn't the king," Damian objected.

"That's not the point."

From there the conversation descended into concepts about good and evil and willpower that Jason wasn't at all sure his nine-year-old brother fully grasped. To divert it in a less complicated direction, he interjected.

"Forget about the ring. Aragorn isn't even the biggest badass in the movie," he declared. Both of his brothers turned to him, and he pointed at the screen where Eowyn had just hacked through the neck of the giant wyrm and stabbed the Witch King. The Nazgul promptly imploded. "See? Badass."

Damian looked appalled. "But she's a girl!"

 _So much for less complicated…_  Jason felt his face twitch. "Mom's a girl."

Too late he realized he'd used the present tense. A glance at Tim told him that the teen had  _definitely_  noticed the slip, but Damian just frowned deeply. The lack of any outright fury or shock told Jason he'd missed it. He cleared his throat.

"Babs is a girl too, and Dr. Thompkins, and trust me, they're both way cooler than the three of us combined."

Not knowing either of the two women very well, Damian didn't look at all convinced. Jason looked at Tim pleadingly. The teen gave him the universal I-got-this nod, though a moment later he almost wished he hadn't turned to him.

"Jason likes Eowyn because she disobeyed orders, went off to battle, and - almost - get herself heroically killed," Tim told the boy with a completely straight face, much to Jason's dismay. "Besides, we all know who's really the heaviest hitter in the series."

"Who?" Damian asked suspiciously.

"Gandalf. Duh."

All three could agree on that, and Jason felt sufficiently distracted, but later in the night when the house was quiet and his brothers asleep, thoughts of patrol and his father's absence crept up again. His sleeping schedule thoroughly thrown off by Red Robin - Jason usually slept late into the mornings - he was wide awake through the night. Less than an hour into his insomnia, having found nothing to do, Jason went down to the cave.

He was categorically forbidden from being in the field without Batman, but technically there were no restrictions on wearing his uniform, and Jason figured if he kept off the streets and away from any potential conflicts, he wasn't breaking any rules, just bending them. His destination was in the heart of the city, and he landed soundlessly on the ledge of the clocktower. At least he thought it was soundless.

Oracle opened the window for him.

"Again?" she asked.

"Funny. That's what I said earlier." He climbed in and took off his domino mask.

If anyone could be counted on to be awake in the late hours, it was Barbara. Ever watchful, Oracle kept a close eye and ear on everything that went on in Gotham, particularly the patrols of her fellow Birds of Prey. Huntress and Black Canary were both in the field in Batman's absence, and though Red Robin was benched, there was no harm visiting.

"Is it Metropolis again?" she asked while he made himself comfortable in one of the rolling chairs.

"Second time this months." Jason grimaced, idly brushing dust off of the computer console.

Barbara adjusted her glasses. "Wayne Enterprises has a major office in Metropolis. I get why he'd have to go."

"Every other week?"

She seemed to consider it. "Maybe he has a girlfriend."

"Oh, not you too!"

She laughed, and it was a nice sound. He hadn't seen Barbara nearly often enough since his return and when he did, Jason noted how rarely she smiled. His eyes drifted to the chair, and he quickly looked away. Everyone assured him that she was fine, but as a fellow victim of the Joker, Jason knew better. It ate at him that someone he looked up to, considered family, a big sister of sorts, was still in so much pain.

The eye roll she gave him over her spectacles was certainly big-sister-worthy. "You know your father's an adult, right? How do you think you ended up with Damian?"

"Immaculate conception," he replied flatly. "You can't convince me otherwise."

The red-head chuckled, and they fell into a comfortable silence while she checked the scanners and police radio bands. Jason got up and made a circle around the clock tower. His eyes wandered until they fell on a stuffed doll on the computer console next to where Barbara was working. He leaned in to study it closer and realized with a shock that he was looking at Nightwing. Barbara must have seen him looking at it.

"He has one too," she said wryly. "A Batgirl one, I mean."

"Cute." Jason picked up the toy, then tossed it back down. "Babs, can I ask a very awkward, very personal question?" She waited for him expectantly, and he took it as a yes. "Why didn't you two ever get married? I know he asked."

She sighed, rolled the chair to face him, and he almost wished he hadn't asked. Barbara looked clearly pained, but then he'd seen that same look on his older brother's face whenever conversation drifted even close to that direction. And yes, Jason knew it was none of his business, but he wanted them both to be happy. They more than deserved it.

Barbara took a deep breath and removed her glasse, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's complicated."

"He loves you."

"I know."

"I'm pretty sure you love him, too."

"I do."

"So? What's complicated about that?"

"Jason… sometimes love isn't enough."

"It should be." He knew once again how childish that sounded but couldn't help it.

"But it isn't," Barbara's voice was calm and resigned, but also sad. "Look at Bruce and Talia. You think they didn't love each other?"

Uncomfortable with the topic, Jason just nodded. He knew they did. Or at least his father loved her because he got the same look that sometimes crossed Dick's face when they spoke about Barbara was on his father's whenever the topic of Talia came up. How she felt about Bruce, Jason didn't know. Talia was an extremely private person, and Jason didn't feel it was his place to ask.

Then the implication of Barbara's words caught up with him.

"You know she's alive." It wasn't a question.

"I am Oracle," she said like that answered everything. "Oracle is all-seeing, all-knowing. I make it my business to keep track of all the major players on the board. Ra's al Ghul's daughter and the mother of Batman's sons is pretty high on that list."

"Thanks." It didn't escape his notice that she used the plural. "So she's okay? Do you know where she is?"

"I don't know where she is," Barbara shook her head. "Other than the fact that she's alive and laying low, I don't have much info. Not for lack of trying, trust me."

"What happened to all-seeing, all-knowing?"

"That's as far as Bruce will let me get. When you confirmed she was alive, he came to me and explicitly told me not to track her."

"I can't imagine that would stop you." Jason smirked.

"I don't snoop in Batman's personal matters," Barbara said pragmatically. Jason crossed his arms. "Not unless I think there's a threat. I  _may_  have tried recently - once - and I didn't get far. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I don't think she's the only one covering her own tracks. One guess who might be helping."

"The guy who strikes fear into Gotham's underworld, but is better known to me as 'Dad'."

It made a lot of sense. Talia was good at hiding, but if Jason could find her in Los Angeles, Ra's and Bruce could certainly do the same. Perhaps it was after Los Angeles that his father decided to help her. Jason wondered if she knew about it. Something told him Talia wouldn't appreciate the interference.

"Okay," leaned back in the chair and pushed against the floor to make a single circle. "That's more talk about my folks than I'm comfortable with. What's new with the Birds?"

Jason returned to the manor a few hours before dawn and having nothing better to do, went to to his father's study to raid his library and see if there was anything he could occupy himself with until he felt tired enough to go to sleep. Leaning back, Jason was suddenly distracted from the books when his fingers slid across something slick and slippery on the hardwood surface of the table. Frowning, he swiped two fingers across the surface, rubbed them together, and studied them.

 _Wood polish?_  But he quickly dismissed the idea when he saw a similar shimmering tinge on his father's gloves that had been discarded on the table. It had been getting cooler lately so Bruce had taken to wearing them out. Jason brought his fingers to his nose and cautiously sniffed at the substance.

The scent was subtle - sandalwood, with a hint of something like roses - but the memories that hit him felt like a hurricane force. Suddenly in his mind's eye he was back in the house in eastern Europe. He wasn't consciously aware, but Jason felt the ghost of the sensation of another hand holding his. Soft, feminine, and anointed with the same scented oils.

If Jason could see himself, he was sure his eyes were like china saucers.

Tim and Babs had been right.  _Holy. Fucking. Shit!_

He was out the office and in his room in seconds. A duffle bag was packed less than five minutes later, and he slowed down only long enough to poke his head in Tim's room. The teen was asleep, but at least someone should know what he was up to. Jason crept quietly forward and gently shook his shoulder.

"Timmy, wake up." The teen just groaned, so Jason tried again. "I'm going to Metropolis."

This time the groan was much more annoyed, followed by a slurred. "How..."

"The usual way: an airplane."

" _Why_?"

"I need to talk to Dad. It's important."

Tim made a face but this time bothered to roll over. His eyes opened just enough to squint at him. "You know how much people hate it when you do this…"

Jason smirked. "Are you going to punch me?"

"Too tired to punch you. Sleeping."

"That's fine. I'm just telling you so you'll tell Al and Damian in the morning. I'll call when I land." Tim buried his face into the pillow with an obvious sound of disgust. "I'm not running away. Just going to see Dad."

"Good. He can kick your ass for all of us."

Tim turned back towards the wall and promptly went back to sleep.


	6. Part VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some explanation for Talia's current position is probably warranted. I have her working at LexCorp because that's where she is in the 'Death and the Maidens' and also early Superman/Batman story-lines. For anyone needing more details, check out Talia's Wikipedia page under the section 'LexCorp'. I felt it fits into the story, because I always imagined Lex and Ra's have a non-interference policy, much like they do in Young Justice animated series, and it's also a bit of hiding in plain sight. Enjoy and please review!

Bruce strategically timed his trips to Metropolis so that he would arrive early Friday morning, spend the day at the local branch of Wayne Enterprises, and have the weekend for… other things. To make it easier to pretend the trip was not entirely personal, he put in a solid twelves hours at the office before returning to the high rise penthouse in the middle of the city. Separate from any other apartment in the building by a key card restricted elevator, Bruce was nonetheless not at all surprised to see Talia when the doors slid open.

"I  _really_  need to update my security," he said wryly, stepping out into the hallway.

"I could leave," Talia offered with a completely straight face and actually made a move for the elevator. Bruce held up a grocery bag.

"Can I bribe you?" Talia pretended to seriously consider it. "Grass-fed lean steak, salad with raspberry dressing, baby potatoes and red wine."

She arched a brow. "Cabernet Sauvignon?"

"Merlot."

"You do realize the food needs to be prepared." Her tone made it clear that she was not stepping near a stove and had absolutely no faith in his abilities in the kitchen.

"I can cook." This was met with extreme skepticism. "I don't often, but I can. If you're willing to supervise and make sure I don't burn the place down…"

"That is the  _only_  way this will happen." She took the bottle of wine from him pointedly and lead him to the living room. "As it happens I have a gift for you."

The doors closed behind them, and she turned and held up a USB drive between two fingers. It was Bruce's turn to raise a brow.

"Tell me those are all of LexCorp's dark, dirty secrets."

"I am offended," she said, though her voice was tinged with amusement. "Corporate espionage is a serious crime, and Wayne Enterprises  _is_  a competitor."

He figured as much and couldn't really fault her for laying low. It would probably be a major scandal if a high ranking employee of LexCorp and Bruce Wayne were even seen together in public. If it was discovered that she leaked any information to Wayne Enterprises, the consequences would be unpleasant to say the least.

"Now if I  _were_  to find out about any illicit - dare I say, criminal - activity," Talia continued, "it would be my duty as an upstanding citizen to report it. Perhaps to… this city's own guardian? Anonymously, of course."

"Of course." Bruce grinned, pleasantly surprised that she was willing to send intelligence to Superman, if anonymously. The two were rarely on speaking terms. "I'm sure that can be arranged. So what's my present?"

"After dinner, provided we survive the preparation process."

Despite earlier protests, she did rinse and prepare the salad. As whole the preparations ended up being quite painless, with Talia making only small corrections as he worked most of which consisted of telling him what spices to add to the steak and potatoes. Other than that they worked mostly in silence.

The table was set and the wine poured a half hour later, and when they were settled Bruce watched for her reaction as she cut into the meat for the first time. Talia thoughtfully chewed and then followed the small bite with a sip of wine.

"Quite adequate," she declared and tilted her head at him slightly. "How did you acquire this skill?"

"Osmosis, mostly," he admitted taking a sip of wine himself. "When I was younger and traveled a lot, I eventually got tired of eating out and experimented a bit. I don't do much cooking at home, but sometimes I hear Alfred and Jason discussing various things. Guess some of it sunk in."

Talia blinked. "Jason can cook?"

"Pretty well too."

The reset of the dinner conversation kept to other safe topics. Talia spoke little about her work, but mentioned that she had struck up a friendship with a neighbor of hers which surprised him. She was not a social person unless she had to be, even less so than himself or Jason. In fact Bruce wasn't sure she had any friends, certainly not any other women.

When food was gone and dishes abandoned in the sink, they retired to the living room and Bruce opened his laptop. Talia took a seat next to him, tucking her bare feet beneath her, one arm propped on the back of the couch. She handed him the flash drive and watched as he booted it. For a few seconds Bruce couldn't quite understand the amused look on her face, then he looked at the screen and groaned.

"Triple encryption?" He gave her a half amused, half exasperated look. "Is this really necessary?"

She gave him an enigmatic look and simply said, "Precious cargo."

"Alright." Bruce tilted his head from side to side, stretching. "I see you're going to make me work for this mysterious present."

"I make it a point to make you work for  _everything_." Her voice was low and husky, then her features relaxed into something gentler. "It will be worth it, Bruce. I promise."

He shrugged then straightened and began to type away at the keyboard. Bruce had to give her credit; it took him ten minutes to crack through the first level of encryption, but levels two and three took twice as long each. At the end, however, he saw that Talia was right: it was more than worth it.

Bruce clicked through picture, hundreds of them, and his grin grew wider with every one. They began with a swaddled, chubby-cheeked infant and slowly progressed to a very determined - though clearly not yet vertically stable - toddler and finally to the boy he easily recognized as his youngest son. In some of them Damian was wearing more traditional Middle-Eastern outfits while others had him in more western clothes. Talia was in a few pictures as well, sometimes holding him as a baby other times instructing the boy on wooden swords.

Without even noticing it, Bruce kept going back to the early baby pictures. "He was so small…"

"Not  _that_  small," Talia commented wryly. "Did you think all children magically arrive at your door between the ages of eight and twelve?"

"That's been my general experience, yes," he quipped.

"Well it was not mine, and I have the stretch marks to prove it." He blinked in what must have looked like utter bewilderment. "I am  _fairly_  certain you have seen me nude."

He chuckled, then reluctantly leaned forward and closed the computer screen. Talia looked momentarily surprised, until he took her arm and easily maneuvered them so that she was straddling his lap. Her brow raised in question until he surged up and captured her lips in a sultry kiss that somehow felt sweet at the same time. Talia pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and even when they pulled apart a moment later, their foreheads still touched.

"I'll let you in on a little secret." His voice rang with amusement. "Men don't see stretch marks. At all. We just see hips..." hands moved to rest on the curves of her hips then slowly under her blouse and up her body, "the arch of a woman's back. And these." His thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, and even through a bra, Talia shivered.

"Odd." she bumped her nose against his playfully. "I happen to know for a fact that Batman is extremely detail-oriented."

"Batman is," he agreed, "but Bruce Wayne is a shallow socialite. Haven't you heard?"

Talia rolled her eyes. "Such lies are offensive."

Bruce kissed her again because he wanted to and because he found the idea of her being offended on his behalf of how people perceived his well-crafted civilian persona endearing. Talia could certainly play a part if she had to but there was rarely cause for it. At most, people tended to perceive that she was intensely private which - while true for him as well in reality - was the opposite of the image he tended to feed the media.

"A necessary lie," he reminded her.

Something flickered across Talia's face. It was gone within a split second, but Bruce caught the look. She hated that they had to hide this, hated the lies she felt she had to tell in the past. Again it came back to ends and means between them, just as it so often did whenever al Ghuls were involved. Talia had once told him that she approved of her father's goals but not his means, and Bruce believed that. She wasn't vicious for the sake of violence, but heaven help anyone who threatened her family.

To distract himself from the morbid thoughts, he pulled her close again.

"Bed?" he whispered.

"Bed," she agreed.

* * *

Talia awoke slowly, stretching against the soft cotton sheets. Her body felt wonderfully well-tested, which she found odd after the half a second it took her to remember the night before. A glance towards the large windows, however, explained it when she saw the bright streaming through the window shutters. It must have been quite late in the morning. A glance to the other empty side of the bed told her that her lover had already awakened, likely a while ago. His pillow felt cool to the touch.

Pulling the white cover with her as she rose, Talia wrapped them around herself and let the sheet trail after her as she made her way to the living room. Looking towards the open kitchen, Talia could see that there were two plates on the counter with eggs, toasted English muffins, and what she suspected were turkey sausages. Steam still wafted from both meals. Bruce was back in the open adjacent kitchen with his back to her, thoughtfully sipping a cup of coffee as his fingers tapped on the mouse pad of the computer before him.

He was looking at the photos again, she realized. Talia cleared her throat, Bruce glanced back at her.

"Morning."

"Good morning." She walked forward and accepted the second cup of coffee he offered from her. "Thank you for breakfast, though it was not necessary. You could have slept longer."

He shook his head. "I'm used to running on only a few hours, but you looked like you needed it."

"Try to look a bit  _less_  self-satisfied." Talia smacked his shoulder playfully.

"Oh, I think we were both pretty satisfied." She made a face at him out of habit. "Yes, I know it's morning. I swear you used to be more romantic than this."

That... stung. Badly. Much worse than she imagined it would. She wanted to ask him what it was exactly he thought they were doing. Of course an affair could be sexual, emotional, or both, but Talia liked to pretend this one was just the former. To do otherwise would be to set them both up for eventual heartbreak and disappointment, the usual concoction of emotions that never failed to come every time their trysts fell apart.

It was more than guilt over Damian, and later Jason, that made her avoid him for the last nine years or ensure that their encounters were more often than not cool at best and hostile at worst. It was the utter hopelessness of there ever being something good, something long-term and sustainable for the two of them. How she missed being young and naive, being back in the desert with him during their brief and blissfully care-free marriage. There had been plenty of romance and laughter.

He had been her 'beloved' then.

In an effort to hide her discomfort, she reached for the kettle and he let her. Talia often wondered how much he could read of the complex emotions she tried to hide. She suspected it was more than what would make her comfortable. Holding the sheet still wrapped around her body with one hand and pouring the hot water onto the silk tea bag in the cup with the other, she pointedly avoided his gaze, but he had turned back to the computer anyway.

"Do you have any more photos?" Bruce asked pausing on another picture of Damian as a toddler, a bit unsteady on his hands and knees in the shifting sand.

"There are well over five thousand on that drive," Talia looked at him, grateful for the change of topic. That relief quickly vanished with his next words.

"I meant, do you have any of Jason?"

"No." She turned back to her tea, resisting the nervous tick to bite her lip.

Bruce raised a brow skeptically. "Almost two years and you never once took a single picture?"

"A year and a half," she corrected, "and you can imagine why he might not have appreciated if I pointed a camera at him."

"From what I understand," Bruce's voice was careful and measured, and she just knew she was not going to like whatever he said, "that was… later."

" _Later_ ," she repeated in affirmation. "You do not want to see images from  _before_."

"He's my son," he said as if it was supposed to resolve everything. From Talia's perspective, it did, though not in the way he might have liked.

"He is," she agreed, setting her cup down. "And believe me, you do not want to see your child like that. You do not want those images in your mind, B… Bruce. It is enough that I have the memories. Let them be my burden to carry, my penance."

Her palms rested on the cool marble of the kitchen counter as she tried in vain to center her thoughts and emotions once more. She almost didn't hear it as Bruce put his own cup down and came up behind her. His arms wrapped around her sheet-clad torso, and he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"You brought him back," he whispered, and yes, his voice was not entirely steady. " You saved him where I couldn't. Whatever else happened, I will always be grateful for that."

_Grateful. At best he would be grateful._

Her father's words to her after the first time she had suggested using the pit to restore Jason to everything he had been before his tragic death rang in her ears again. Talia did her best not to think about it, but sometimes she had to wonder if this was anything more than an expression of gratitude. Was it any wonder she did her best to harden her heart? Taking a deep breath, Talia skillfully untangled herself from his embrace.

"I am going to shower." Her tone was about as far from an invitation as it could get.

Bruce looked like he wanted to protest, but the cell phone in his pocket vibrated at that moment, and she used it as an opportunity to retreat back towards the bedroom and the adjacent bathroom. Before she was out of earshot, Talia thought she heard him mutter something about four missed calls.

Then the doorbell rang.


	7. Part VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to everyone here in the States! I have a little bit of a longer chapter for you all this time, but unfortunately it may be offset by longer breaks in the coming months. I have a family situation that's going to be taking up a lot of my time and energy in the near future, so I may not be posting as often as I'd like. Rest assured I will finish this fic! Enjoy and please review!

On the two plus hour flight from Gotham to Metropolis, Jason had come to accept that the next day was going to probably be the most weirdest experience of his life, before _and_ after death and resurrection. He tried to hold off any emotion until after he saw his father and had some kind of confirmation, but anxiety still slipped through.

As soon as he landed and turned off the airplane mode on his cell, a text came in from his younger brother.

_Alfred’s ready to kill you. UK Special Forces kung fu style._

Smirking to himself, Jason typed back: _There’s about to be a line, so he better hurry._

 _I’m seriously_ , Tim replied a moment later. _What’s so important that it can’t wait till Sunday night when Bruce gets back? And what’s wrong with a phone call?_

 _I’ll tell you in… a few hours_ , Jason texted. _Make sure Damian doesn’t get to your cell_. He clicked off his own phone and went to grab a cab to downtown Metropolis, but just as he got in, he pulled it out again. Bruce deserved fair warning and frankly, the even the remotest possibility of walking into something between his parents… eww! Jason shook his head to clear it and gave the driver the address of the penthouse downtown. At least four attempts of calls and texts had been made, and he tried one last time after the cab had pulled up to the building. There was still no answer, but by then he was at the door and knocking.

It opened a full 2 minute later, which was about a minute and forty seconds more than Jason knew it took to come from the farthest point in the penthouse. His father looked about as surprised as he’d ever seen or thought him capable of.

“Hey, Dad.” He put on his best grin.

“Jason,” He’d said it a little louder than necessary. “Are your brothers alright? Is everything okay in Gotham?”

“Yeah, fine.” He ducked under his father’s arm to enter the apartment, and gave the place the same casual once-over that anyone walking into a new place might have, except Jason wasn’t just anyone. He was the son of Batman.

Bruce frowned. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Can’t a son just want to spend some quality time with his dad...”

“I’m coming back tomorrow evening.”

“...on a weekend?”

They looked each other in a way that made Jason feel oddly like he was back in kindergarten and playing staring contests to see who would blink first. His father didn’t budge, and tired of the game, he tilted his head towards the kitchen and cleared his throat.

“There’s two plates on the counter.” Bruce looked at him hard. “And two cups. Your bedroom door is closed, and I’m pretty sure those are pictures of my _beloved_ baby brother on that computer. Pictures that I don’t have, which means you shouldn’t have them, and yet… you do. Somehow… Magically…”

What was left unstaid but clear in his eyes was, _I may not be the world’s greatest detective, but give me some credit._ All that was left to do was wait for some kind of reaction. His father’s look was completely unreadable. Jason couldn’t tell if he was angry, shocked, impressed or something else. Then he crossed his arms, looked down at the floor, and simply nodded. Bruce walked to the bedroom door and gave it a soft knock.

Jason was not in the least bit surprised when Talia slowly stepped out of the small crack in the door, looking, he was pleased to note, a little chastised. He was not, however, prepared to see a bed sheet and the usual signs of nightly activities… between his parents. Jason made a face that probably looked like Damian’s whenever he even smelled chocolate.

“Hello, Jason.” Her tone was warm and calm, but he tried to look anywhere but at her.

“Hey, T.”

“I am pleased to see you.” Nothing in her voice suggested that it wasn’t the case even though Jason seriously doubted that given the option either of them would have him here. “When did you arrive?”

“Ahh… about an hour ago,” Jason didn’t see what it had to do anything but answering her honestly was almost an instinct at this point.

“And I presume you have not yet eaten.”

“Airport coffee.”

“That is worse than not eating.” She pointed towards the kitchenette. “You are more than welcome to my breakfast. In fact, I insist on it, though I feel obligated to warn you it is your father’s creation.”

Bruce looked genuinely surprised and a little hurt. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Ah, Dad, please!” He probably hadn’t meant it in the way that manifested itself in Jason’s head, but it was too late. Now feeling in desperate need of brain bleach, the young man screwed his eyes shut. “I’m traumatized enough as it is.”

Talia, calm as ever, just gave him a look.

“You are not traumatized. You are throwing a tantrum. Now stay and eat. I will return in a few moments.”

 _And I’m expected to eat after this how exactly?_ he wondered. Left alone with his father in the living room, there was a long awkward silence - ‘awkward’ was definitely going to be the theme of the day. Then they both heard the shower start, and Bruce finally raised his eyes to him. “What gave me away?”

Jason threw his head back and laughed. “You never even _imagined_ hiding a girlfriend, have you? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, you’re shit at it.”

“I really did go to the office,” Bruce offered.

“That’s great, Dad, but I didn’t exactly track you by GPS,” he chuckled. “I don’t think I could I could’ve found out through any tech if I wanted to. I’m sure you got all that covered.”

“Then how?” He told him, and Bruce stared at him for a full minute before covering his eyes with his palm, and Jason wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed by the earlier unintentional innuendo or by getting caught on such a simple mistake.

“I’m taking away your ‘World’s Greatest’ title,” Jason joked before his face relaxed into something more neutral. “You could have told me, you know.” Bruce raised a brow, and he winced. “I mean without details. If you’d told me earlier, I could have yelled at you earlier and we’d have all been spared a lot of embarrassment.”

“Ah, so you _are_ going to yell.”

For some reason that statement more than any other thing over the last twenty four hours pissed Jason off. ‘ _You_ are _going to yell_ ’ sounded like an accusation _he_ might have made at age twelve himself after bringing home a bad grade. Bruce - he’d been _Bruce_ then, not yet ‘ _Dad_ ’ - had promise he’d never be angry at him for bad grades as long as they discussed the reasons and Jason did better next time, but somehow the results had still _felt_ like yelling. But that was normal because Jason was the child and Bruce the parent, and sometimes kids did something wrong and parents yelled at them. This… this was so backwards.

“You know people who have affairs generally _know_ they’re doing something wrong,” he told his father, arms crossed. “Hence the sneaking around and hiding. So you tell me, Dad: what are you doing wrong here? What are both of you doing wrong?”

Bruce just looked at him impassively, which only served to make Jason more angry. Up till that point his feelings had wavered somewhere between amusement and embarrassment. He’d never had any desire to interfere in his father’s love life, let alone when it involved the woman he had come to think of as his mother. But somehow when he looked at them together now their faces blurred together into those of his youngest brother, and all Jason could think of was the time Damian had cried after the fire or the death of Tim’s father when he’d felt Talia’s absence particularly keenly. He thought of the way his little brother’s face lit up whenever anyone spoke to him in Arabic because it reminded him of his mother. And really, what the hell, parents?

“We’ll talk about your brother,” Bruce promised as if reading his thoughts. Jason snorted.

“And what exactly have you been doing for the last few months?” He held up a hand before his father could even open his mouth. “No, don’t answer that. I really don’t need the additional mental images.”

“It’s different now,” Bruce insisted. Jason raised a skeptical brow, and he sighed and inclined his head towards the kitchenette much like Talia had done. “We can finish this conversation later. Go eat something. She won’t be happy till you do.”

Jason rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Generally speaking no one had to prompt him to eat. As a former street kid and knowing full well what it was like to go hungry, he always finished everything Alfred set before him and made sure Tim ate even through his bouts of depression after his father’s death which were thankfully becoming fewer and further in between recently. No one ever had to make sure that Jason himself was eating, except this wasn’t the first time Talia had done it.

He picked up the plate in his left hand and gingerly lopped off a piece of omelet with his fork. “Huh, that’s actually… not awful.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said deadpan.

Jason took a bite of the turkey sausage. “ _Really_ not awful. Ladies go for the whole ‘manly cooking’ thing, huh? I’ll have to make a note of that.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’m mad on Damian’s behalf. Doesn’t mean I can’t make fun of you.”

His father, not usually one to show outward signs of discomfort, sighed and leaned back his head to stare at the ceiling as if all the solutions to their problems could be found in an unseen higher power.

“This is different,” Bruce repeated, but he didn’t sound terribly convincing.

“Why?” Jason finished eating and washed the plate. “How’s this different from a million other times it starts with the two of you have hooked up and ends with shooting at each other?”

“Because of what’s happening with Ra’s.”

“Yeah.” The young man crossed his arms and glared. “You mean that thing I said we should tell her about weeks ago, but you said ‘no’?”

“Tell me what?”

If he hadn’t already left the plate in the sink, Jason was sure it would be in pieces all over the floor. Few could sneak up on Batman or any of his protégés, but Talia was definitely one of those people. They must not have noticed the sound of the shower stopping while Jason had run the water in the sink to clean the dishes, but now she was standing just outside the doorway between the bedroom and living room. Now dressed but still drying the wet strands of her long chocolate-brown hair with a towel, Talia regarded them with clear questions in her eyes.

Internally Jason winced. Though it was unintentional and probably not the best way for her to find out, he was glad that at least something would be out in the open. He looked at his father with an obvious, _Well? Go ahead_. Bruce’s jaw tightened, and he was quiet for a long moment. Too long, apparently, for Talia whose expression changed from curious but relaxed to annoyed and suspicious. Tossing the towel in her hand back somewhere inside the bedroom, she took several long strides to the couch where she pulled out a pen from her purse, scribbled down something on a post-it note, and handed the yellow paper to Jason.

“My address,” she said crisply, though he didn’t feel like the sudden coldness was directed at him. “The doorman is called Lawrence. Tell him I requested you wait for me, and he will let you in. I have a _sudden_ feeling it is past time your father and I have a little chat on a few matters.”

Jason looked to Bruce, who, while obviously not thrilled with the looming conversation, didn’t seem too opposed to him waiting at Talia’s apartment while the storm hit. He nodded curtly at him, and Jason pocketed the post-it.

“Have fun,” he told his father more cheerfully than necessary. “I don’t feel sorry for you at all.” _Because you should have said something to her weeks ago._

After he was out of the building and on the street, trying very hard not to think of the shit that had surely hit the fan by now behind him, Jason pulled out his ear buds and phone. It only rang once before his brother picked it up.

“You got your ears on, Timmy?”

“Hold on.” There was some rustling noises in the background before it finally settled. “I’m here. How are you still alive?”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Not disappoint, just surprised. Did you not see Bruce yet?”

“Oh, I saw him. Could have done with seeing a lot less, though.”

“What does that mean?”

“Are you by yourself?”

“I’m in the cave, yeah.”

“Well, just in case anyone comes down, don’t react.” He took a breath and paused on the sidewalk. “Congratulations, you were right about the girlfriend thing. Apparently my parents still make out and then some.”

“Bruce and Talia?” He could practically hear the frown in Tim’s voice and for some reason it irritated him.

“Do I have other parents?” Jason snapped, then realizing how stupid the comment was pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, Dad’s with Talia. For the last few month now, since she sent Ace back to us.”

There was a very long pause in which Jason wasn’t at all sure the connection hadn’t been dropped. Out of habit, he tapped the mic on the headset and tried again. “Wow, you’re really good at this ‘not reacting’ thing.”

“There’s nothing really to react to.” Tim exhaled a small puff of air, and Jason imagined him shrugging. “I hadn’t really suspected anything, but I can’t say I’m exactly surprised. They have such a long and convoluted history that nothing about Bruce and Talia’s relationship surprises me.”

“Hey, I’m trying to share my trauma here.” Jason complained. “Work with me.”

He was a few blocks away now, dodging other pedestrians. Metropolis was enjoying another warm sunny day - did this city have non-sunny days? - but all Jason could focus on was Tim on the phone and the general background noises of the cave. He paused next to a bakery to swipe through to his GPS and enter the address Talia had given him on the post-it note. It was only a fifteen minute walk away, so he started moving again.

Tim made a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. “Did you walk in on them or something?”

“No! Though I think I only beat that potentially permanent mental scar buy a few minutes. _Why_ are you laughing?”

“Because you sound like you’re five. Who cares what they do in private if it makes them happy?”

“Oh, I’m all for them being happy, but you know who else should be in on some of that happiness? Damian.” Tim was quiet again in that way that, even over the phone, Jason could tell he wanted to say something that he thought was going to make him angry. “Spit it out, Timmy.”

“I’m not sure it’s my place.”

“Hey,” Jason stopped at a corner before making a turn towards the street that lead directly to Talia’s apartment. “You’re my brother. It’s _literally_ your job in life to tell me shit I don’t want to hear. I won’t be mad.”

“Okay, but just remember you said that,” Tim sighed then took a deep breath. “You always claim that these things bother you because of Damian, and yeah, I guess it’s probably mostly true.”

“But…”

“But a good chunk of it is about you. Because she’s your mom too, and you want her home. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you have to admit it. When you talk to them, don’t just talk about how this all affects Damian. Tell them how you feel about it too.”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“Worse,” he replied ominously, but with a tinge of amusement. “I’m your brother and it’s _literally_ my job in life to tell you shit you don’t want to hear.”

Jason couldn’t help it. He laughed because, really, he’d invited this little heart-to-heart. Tim was right, of course, and it was odd how similar what he said sounded to what Dick had told him on that horrible plane ride back from San Francisco months earlier. Except his older brother had made it sound like an accusation, like he was wrong to feel the way he did, whereas Tim spoke gently and without judgment. Thinking of Dick still hurt, so Jason changed the topic.

“I’m almost at her apartment,” he said. “Sorry to cut this chick flick moment short, Sammy, but I gotta go.”

“Sure,” the teen laughed. “I still don’t get that reference, you know.”

“It’s okay. At least you get that it’s a reference. I’ll make you watch _Supernatural_ when I get back,” he promised and hung up.

Unsurprisingly, the building where Talia resided was no less upscale looking than the one that held Bruce’s penthouse. The doorman - Lawrence - squinted at Jason suspiciously but seemed to relax and let him through when he showed him the post-it note with the address and Talia’s signature at the bottom. Her apartment was towards the top of the building, though unlike Bruce’s penthouse, there were other units on the floor. Jason suspected she probably didn’t want to invest into anything too permanent.

It wasn’t until he got to the door that he realized Talia had forgotten to give him a key.

 


	8. Part VIII

The thing about Bruce was that whether he admitted it or not, he was used to being the smartest person in the room, used to having all the answers and a certainty that those answers were right. He was used to it in the board room of Wayne Enterprises, on the deck of the Watchtower and in the Hall of Justice, and at home with his sons. Clark and Diana would have called it arrogance, but he knew that it was simply a fact.

In the back of his mind, a voice cautioned that this was probably what Ra’s about himself as well.

When it came to Talia, however, all those feelings of self-assuredness went straight out the nearest window. She was just as calculating as he was, just as intelligent, and probably with a better grasp on her emotions than he had. When Talia was in the room, Bruce felt like he was in the company of an equal in all ways, a partner he would have gladly shared his life with if circumstances had been just a little in their favor. All of that also meant that she was one of the few people on the planet who could throw him off balance, and the way she was looking at him now, Bruce definitely felt it.

“What,” Talia leveled him with a look that would have made lesser men shake, “is happening with my father? The truth.”

Bruce took a deep breath, ready to answer, but the first thing that came out of his month was, “Don’t be mad at Jason.”

She seemed, if possible, colder than before. “Jason is a loyal son and only follows your lead. I cannot be angry with him. You, on the other hand…”

“Because neither of us has ever kept something from the other,” he spat, not so much at her but at the universe as a whole. Talia glared daggers at him.

“You knew everything I had done the day we met at the park, and you are under absolutely no obligation to be here. Since you are, I expect the courtesy of being informed if something is amiss with my family.”

“And Ra’s expected the _courtesy_ of being informed where you were,” Bruce said, “should I have obliged him too?”

“What you tell him about me puts _your_ sons in a direct line of fire. What you tell me about him can only serve to protect them. You know this to be true.”

Alright, that was a good point. Questionable as though Bruce sometimes found her decisions, he never once doubted that everything Talia did was done with Damian and Jason’s safety in mind. He walked over to the couch and sat down heavily, symbolically relinquishing the position power to her. Talia remained standing, arms crossed. Slowly and calmly, he told her of Ra’s visit to Gotham, how he looked, and what was happening to the pits.

After he was finished, there was a long stretch of silence and tension, and Bruce suspected she was doing her best to keep her composure. Talia was not was not usually one for shouting, like letting anyone drive her to loose control was beneath her dignity. But what was true for him was also true for her, and his words and actions had the power to unbalance her like no other.

“You,” she breathed out slowly, “did not deem it important enough to tell me that my father is dying.”

Put like that, it sounded terrible, but Bruce faced her gaze. “He’s been removed from all our lives for almost a year now. _You_ cut ties with him to keep our sons safe; you said so yourself. Are you really telling me you would now try to help him and risk them?”

“I would _never_ do anything to risk them!” She was visibly livid now. “But he is _my_ father, _not_ yours, and I _deserve_ to have information to make choices against. He rarely gave me true choices, and now you are doing _exactly_ the same thing.”

“You want to talk about choices?” Suddenly he was on his feet again, just as angry. “How about the choice to be there when Damian was born, when he learned to walk and talk? How about not going out of my mind with grief after Jason’s death? I would have liked to have those choices too, Talia, choices about _my_ children. As for your father, _he_ should have died six hundred years ago, so I’m sorry if I’m not shedding any tears here.”

Talia recoiled as if he’d slapped her.

“You are a _disgusting_ hypocrite,” she hissed. “Spare me your righteous fury, Bruce. Were it not for the Pits you so easily dismiss as unnatural aberrations, you would not have Jason here, whole and well, and were it not for my father, you would not have Damian.”

“Or you,” he whispered, suddenly feeling ashamed at his outburst, at yelling at her for wanting to know about her dying father.

Bruce didn’t look at her for a long moment. When he finally did, what he saw on her face was worse than anger: it was complete and utter hopelessness.

“You had me,” she admitted, her voice breaking and solitary tear slid down her cheek. It occurred to Bruce that he hadn’t seen her cry since… “A decade ago, in the desert, we had each other. But that was a dream. I see that clearly now.”

Every word out of her mouth was like a nail in the coffin of whatever had being going on for the past several months and, really, the entirety of their relationship over the years. Bruce tried to tell himself that he was under no illusion that it was sustainable, but a part of him still whispered, _Why not?_ They had been happy once.

“I do dream about it sometimes,” he confessed quietly. “Of what could have been after Qayin. Taking you back to Gotham with me, raising the boys together, and how much good it would have done for everyone. There are times when I look at Jason and I can’t believe he’s really here, and all I can think of then is how much I failed him. Even after Dick, I didn’t know how to really be a parent when Jason needed me most. I _know_ I wasn’t enough. Maybe if he’d had a mother…”

There was another long stretch of silence between them where Bruce wondered if she realized that that was the first time he’d allowed himself to say it out loud. He wondered how much Talia knew about Charine Todd or Sheila Haywood or if he understood why Jason clung to her the way he did. They’d never discussed it, and he doubted she and Jason had spoken about it, but Bruce suspected she had most of the story anyway.

“But that is all a fantasy.” Her jaw tightened. “And I am so, _so_ very sorry for the unspeakable horrors Jason has endured, but do not _ever_ imply that I am somehow responsible for his death.”

“I’m not.” But privately Bruce wondered, Is _it what I meant?_ Damian had been conceived not long before Jason had come into his life. How often had he imagined Talia and Damian in their lives from the beginning? How often had he thought that if Jason had had a loving mother he might not have gone running after Sheila Haywood which ultimately lead to his death? None of that was fair to Talia…

“It matters not regardless,” she shook her head. “Love cannot live where there is no trust, and neither of us has given the other any reason to do so.”

He watched, not knowing what else to say, as she moved to pick up her purse. When she pulled out her keys, Talia stared at them for a few seconds as if she wondered what they were doing here and with a deep sigh, headed for the door. Bruce regained just enough of his senses to ask.

“Where are you going?”

“To my apartment,” she said mildly. “Apparently I had neglected to give Jason the keys. I do not wish to make him wait outside for long.”

“Oh.” That made sense.

“Would you like for me to tell him to return here?”

“I don’t mind him spending time with you,” he tried to assure her. “After that he can… go back to Gotham or come back here and fly out with my tomorrow. Whatever he wants to do.”

“Very well.” She inclined her head in acquiescence and reached for the knob. The door began to swing open, before he called out to her.

“Wait!”

Talia paused in the doorway and looked back to him, her expression carefully neutral. Bruce realized he hadn’t really thought of anything to say. After a moment of pregnant silence, she sighed again as if disappointed that he hadn’t figured out what to say to her and moved to the exit again.

“Good-bye, Bruce.”

The door closed behind her.

* * *

 

Jason had already been killed several times in the same level of _Plants vs. Zombies_ before he wondered if he should go back to the street and find a Starbucks to wait in. That train of thought was predictably followed by, _But what if she’s right downstairs?_ and yet another round of the zombie killing game. He looked down the corridor, leaned back against the corridor wall and slid down to a sitting position. If he was honest with himself, Jason would have admitted that he didn’t care about the game, wasn’t playing to kill time.

He was playing because if he focused on the phone in his hands and the game, he could ignore the ever so slight tremor in his hands and the odd feeling of cold. He would have admitted that in his mind the upscale building sometimes warped into his old rundown rat-infested apartment building on Park Row, and try as he might stop it, his mind kept going to a single moment in time when he was six. Willis Todd was out with some gang as usual, and Catherine Todd, in one of her rare moments of lucidity, had gone to a dealer.

And she’d locked the door.

Six-year-old Jason had spent a few hours checking the dumpsters in the backs of the local restaurants and bakeries. He’d managed to find a whole unopened bag of stale bagels and had been very proud of himself, until he came back and realized he had been locked out. None of the houses in that part of Gotham had good heating, and it was the middle of winter. Even now sitting in the overheated corridor of the luxury apartment building, Jason felt himself shiver at the memory.

 _Talia just made a mistake_ , a voice in his mind chastised him for his weakness. _It’s not her fault you’re a head case._ He flipped back to the main screen to check the clock again, and just then the elevator at the end of the hall dinged with someones arrival. Jason was back on his feet instantly, but to his disappointment, he saw another woman walking toward him. _Probably one of the other tenants_ , he thought and turned away, but she paused by the door on the opposite side just a few feet away and looked at him with a frown.

“Who are you?” her tone was court, but not accusatory.

“I’m… Jason. Sorry for lurking here.” He inclined his head towards Talia’s door, not sure what name she’d given her neighbors. “My mom forgot to give me the key.”

“Your… mother?” The woman looked genuinely puzzled and oh, how Jason hated that look.

“I’m adopted,” he clarified, in case that wasn’t obvious.

“Oh.” Her expression changed slightly at his words. How, he couldn’t quite tell. She still looked a little puzzled, but it was somehow more relaxed, like his status just made the world make sense again. Jason badly wanted to be anywhere but alone with this woman.

“That was unnecessary.”

His wish was granted with the sound of a voice coming from the elevator. Talia strode across the hall towards them, stopping by his side placing a hand on his shoulder, but it was the woman with the short hair she looked, her moss green eyes sever.

“He is not obligated to qualify his place in my family to you or anyone else, Nyssa.”

“Oh, sorry!” The woman looked genuinely apologetic, and all Jason could think of was, _Nyssa? Weird name_. “I’m sorry. Of course, that was rude, I know.”

Talia nodded once, whether in acceptance of the apology or just acknowledgment, and her attention instantly focused on him as if the woman was no longer there at all. She frowned. “You look cold. Why are you cold?”

Ironically, the concern in the question was like a breeze of warm air. Jason exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and when his fitsts uncleanched his hands were no longer shaking. “I’m okay,” he said and at least felt like he meant it.

Talia didn’t look completely convinced but she unlocked the door to her apartment and ushered him inside without so much as a backward glance toward the neighbor left in the hallway. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jason finally felt relaxed again, enough to look around the apartment. As he’d guessed, it was fairly spartan, lacking in personal touches that he remembered from the mansion in Eastern Europe.

She turned to him. “Would you like something to eat?”

“No,” Jason chuckled. “Thanks, but you can’t keep feeding me every time you think I’m stressing. I’ll weigh a million pounds.”

“Nonsense,” she waved him off, hanging her coat up and taking off her shoes. Jason did the same. “Certainly not with you recent nightly excursions.”

 _Ah…_ “You know about Red Robin, huh?”

“The Gotham Gazette does not do you justice.” The look she gave him was one almost identical to Bruce’s that read very clearly, I am your parent. I know everything about you, so don’t even try it.

“Yeah, well thanks, but I’m still going to have to pass on the food.”

“But you _will_ share tea with me.” It was a statement.

He smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of refusing.”

“Good.” She nodded once and moved towards the kitchenette. Jason followed. “And you truly have no reason to, as you said, stress. I have told you before that the opinions of those you do not respect in the first place are of absolutely no consequence.”

“I don’t know that lady.”

“Precisely my point. She does not know you, and you are unlikely to ever see her again.”

“I guess.” He leaned back against the counter and watched while she busied herself with preparing the tea. “Speaking of people whose opinions I actually care about, you never did say what you think about it.”

“What?”

“Red Robin.”

“Oh.” She considered his question. “I believe if you and your father both feel that you are ready, then you are. Though, I must admit I first thought it was Richard. Those photos are quite terrible. It was only after I saw the short swords that I realized it was you.”

Jason wanted to say that Nightwing had been out in the field at first before he went to look for Roy Harper, but saying that would prompt more questions than he was comfortable answering. Dick was not Talia’s biggest fan, but somehow that never seemed to bother her and she was very likely to chastise him for fighting with his brother. So he kept his mouth shut on that part and instead asked, “Do you mind me taking the swords?”

“Of course not. They are of far better use with you than in a ceremonial glass case. And,” she smiled wistfully, “I must admit I am pleased to see that they remain true to their purpose.”

He tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she scooped a handful of leaves into a beautiful porcelain tea pot, “they were a wedding gift. In some cultures it is tradition for the bride to present her intended with the gift of a blade that he might protect their future family. He, in turn, is meant to pass it onto their child once that child comes of age. So it is quite fitting that you have them now.”

“Damian should have them,” Jason muttered under his breath before the rest of her statement caught up with him and he stared at her with open shock. “Wait, you two were _married_?!”

The look she gave him was on odd one he couldn’t quite read. It was almost like she was trying to decide what to say, even though it was pretty obvious to him that ‘married’ deserved a little bit of an explanation. When the hell had that happened and how come neither of them ever said anything till now? Talia crossed her arms.

“Alright,” she said as if coming to some sort of internal conclusion. “I will respond to your second statement first since it is far simpler. Yes, your father and I were married briefly around the time that Damian was conceived. No, there are no court documents of our union anywhere in the Western world. I do not believe a piece of paper is required to define a family.”

“But you were _married_!” Jason repeated as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Oh, stop. Is it offensive to you in some way?” She thrust a cup of tea toward him.

“No! It’s just that…” he swiped at the tip of his nose with the index finger of his free hand. Obviously his parents had been even closer than he realized. He wanted to ask that if they were married, why didn’t she ever go back to Gotham and be with them from the beginning? But the questions felt too intrusive. Jason shook his head to clear it and took a gulp of the tea. “Nevermind. You said there was something else?”

“There is,” she put her own cup back on the counter and looked at him very seriously. “I would like to know why you think so little of yourself?”

 


	9. Part VIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! This chapter was a bit tough to write, especially the first part but I hope it turned out well. Points for anyone who recognizes what book Talia is reading here :) Enjoy and please review!

She allowed him to take his cup and move to one of the two small couches in the living room area, all the while watching the boy like a hawk. Bruce seemed to be under the misguided impression that Jason was an adult. Misguided, because Talia felt he truly did not appreciate the impact of death, resurrection, a year on the streets with severe brain damage, and the Lazarus Pit had. Physically Jason was about twenty. Mentally and emotionally was a different story.

She was not the least bit surprised when the first words out of his mouth were, "I don't know what you're talking about," followed shortly by, "I'm fine."

Talia barely resisted the urge to scoff or roll her eyes.

"You are a poor liar, Jason," she said mildly, sitting down on the couch opposite him with her legs tucked under her. "I imagine you are well-practiced at lying to yourself, but I promise that neither your father nor I are terribly impressed. Neither are your brothers, I imagine. Richard, at the very least."

"Dick doesn't know jack shit," he snapped, then as if realizing he'd spoken when he should not have, pressed his lips tightly shut. Talia was not about to let that be the end of it. She stared him down, and a moment later Jason finally sighed. "We had a fight. I yelled, and he left. But he was leaving anyway, so it's kind of a moot point."

"That is when you took up the name Red Robin," she concluded. "Why did he leave?"

"Because he decided his junkie friend was more important than our family."

"I do not believe that for a moment."

"Well, that's what happened. Tim had just lost his dad, and Dick left to go look for Harper."

"Perhaps you may have left out a few details," she said. "Such as the fact that Roy Harper's daughter had just been murdered or that Oliver Queen was about as useful as he typically is. Having known Richard for many years now, I believe it is safe to say that he truly believed his friend needed him."

Bruce had filled her in on the events, but hearing them from Jason's point of view made her realize that the first Robin's departure had affected him more than either of them had considered. He looked at her like he was trying to summon some amount of anger, but mostly Jason seemed tired. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his cup.

"Tim needed him, too."

"Agreed, but he did not simply leave Timothy alone," she looked at him with warm fondness. "He left him with you."

"Which makes me Dick's replacement." Jason blurted out. "Again. I'm Dick's replacement in the big brother department, Tim's replacement as Robin, and Damian's replacement in the son department because you think you can't be with him."

Talia felt ears were ringing, and if she had less self-control, the cup in her hand and all of its contents would have been all over the hardwood floors. As it was, she simply put it down on the side table and set her jaw, looking Jason straight in the eyes. He didn't seem angry, even during the outburst itself, she noted. Instead there was a sort of sense of resignation, as if Jason honestly thought that his role in the family was nothing more than to stand in place for other people.

"I want the name of anyone who dared make you feel unworthy," she declared. "No one has a right to do that to my son. You  _are_  my son, Jason, not a  _replacement_  for anyone. Whoever says differently knows nothing."

To her slight surprise, he chuckled and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, fingers interlaced before him. But even though his eyes glanced forward every once in a while, Talia had the strong suspicion that he was looking mostly at the floor, trying to figure out how to respond to her statement. Finally he nodded to himself and cleared his throat.

"I… ah… appreciate the sentiment. No one's ever offered to reign bloody vengeance on my behalf, even when I thought I wanted it." His tone was ironic. "But you can't take revenge on people who are already dead."

Of course, Talia knew that, knew Jason's history without asking, and knew that the so-called parents that influenced his early years as well as his biological mother were the biggest reasons for his feelings of low self-worth. And perhaps it was cruel to bring it up, but he had to be the one to say it: they were dead.

"I understand that trauma tends to linger," she said quietly. "In some ways, I know that Bruce still seeks validation from his parents and sets unrealistic expectations for himself believing they would be those of his parents. But however idealized they have become in death, at the very least in life they were worthy of his love and loyalty. You, on the other hand, have no obligation to put stalk in the opinions that meant nothing in life and even less in death."

"I hear you." If she was expecting an outburst, all Talia got was a slow exhale. "And most of the time I even get it. Most of the time."

She nodded. "As I said, trauma lingers, and I am absolutely certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that Richard would not have left if he did not feel that Timothy was in good hands."

Jason shook his head. "I told him I didn't need him. That he wasn't there for me when I did, so now I don't."

"And you think that would dissuade him? As I have stated before, you are a poor liar. I have no doubt he knows what a pile of garbage that was. Would you turn your back on Timothy or Damian if they shouted at you in anger? Of course not, therefore give Richard and yourself a little more credit."

They were both quiet for a long moment, then the side of Jason's mouth pulled into something of smile. "You know for someone who doesn't have any siblings, you sure get a lot of this stuff."

"I 'get' people," Talia said. "As for siblings, I know my father had other daughters but none that I have ever known, and it hardly matters. Blood is but the beginning of family, a sampling that would wither and die if left unattended. On the other hand, that same plant will undoubtedly grow and thrive in a different garden if nurtured properly."

Jason stared at her for a moment, then blinked as if shaking off a daze. He was still smiling though, possibly wider than before. "Did you ever read to Damian when he was a baby?"

She did not understand the purpose of the question, but replied nonetheless. "Of course. Mostly epic poetry in Arabic and Farsi."

"That… doesn't surprise me, like, at all. Did he just stare at you the whole time?"

"Babies generally do whenever someone gives them undivided attention. Why do you ask?"

"Because you have this… I don't know, ability to make people listen. Like half the time I'm not sure what you're talking about when you're saying it, but I  _want_  to hear more and it sinks in eventually."

"As long as it does. You have many who love you, Jason. I want you to understand that not only intellectually but also feel it here." She reached forward and tapped the space over his heart. "I recognize that it is not always easy. It is very possible that you will struggle with these scars for the rest of your life, but if there is anything I might do to ease that…"

"Come back to Gotham with us," he blurted out immediately, sitting up straight. Talia opened her mouth, but he went on in a rush. "I know you and Dad have some issues, but you obviously care a lot about each other, and I know you love Damian…"

"...And you." Jason needed to hear it.

"...And me," he agreed a little too dismissively, but Talia decided to let it go this time. "And Ra's isn't likely to be in the picture for much longer, so what's stopping you?"

"The demon's head is still very much alive." She pursed her lips. "As you said, your father and I are far from reconciled."

"Oh, please!" He rolled his eyes as dramatically as possible. "There's nothing there that you guys can't deal with, and you don't get points for martyrdom or masochism. And at the risk being hypocritical, I'd really love to know what's up with you and Dad and Dick and Babs and  _intentionally_  making choices that keep you from being happy. If I had what you all have... I'd never let her go. Not for anything."

His impassioned speech done, Jason sat back against the couch exhaling as if that proclamation had taken everything he had. It reminded Talia of their lunch in Los Angeles when Jason had pleaded on his little brother's behalf, but what he was asking now was so much bigger and - if she was honest with herself - more frightening than anything else. Unable to answer him directly, Talia instead propped her head on the heel of her palm and smiled softly at her son.

"One day," she said warmly, "you are going to become an amazing husband and father. When that happens, I hope you grant me the privilege of knowing a woman rare enough to be worthy of you and your children."

"Sure," his tone clearly said that he was humoring her, which Talia didn't appreciate but again decided to take on another time, "and until that happy day in some very distant - possibly alternate - future, you are more than welcome to hang out with us in Gotham."

There was not a single part of her that did not long to agree, to be able to be with Bruce and hug her baby for the first time in almost a year. But she could not promise him that, no matter how much she or her eldest wanted it. Jason must have read it in her expression because he slumped back into the cushions, unsurprised but clearly disappointed.

"A falsehood will not ease your anguish," she said, then in an attempt to rectify the situation if only a little, repeated. "Tell me of another way I may do so."

Jason sighed and, looking around their immediate surroundings, picked up a tattered paperback from the side table next to his tea. Without even looking at the cover, he thrust the book at her.

"Read to me."

Trying hard not to smile, Talia took it from him. She was about two thirds of the way through this one, but for Jason's benefit, she opened it to the first page, made herself more comfortable on the couch, cleared her throat, and began to read.

"We have been lost to each other for so long. My name means nothing to you. My memory is dust. This is not your fault, or mine…"

* * *

Not used to feeling like he had nothing to do, Bruce checked in at the manor. Tim picked up the phone, and it was pretty obvious from the tone of the teen's voice that he couldn't quite decide if he should ask about his brother or pretend Jason  _wasn't_  in Metropolis. Deciding to put the boy out of his misery, he asked.

"What exactly has your brother told you?"

"Err… you're going to have to be more specific. I have three of those."

"Timothy…" The tone was a clear don't-play-dumb-it-doesn't-suit-you.

"Okay, fine," the teen lowered his voice. "He  _might_  have mentioned he dropped by to see you… and Talia?"

Bruce let out a mildly frustrated sigh, but wasn't really surprised. "And?"

"Well, I told him 'I told you so', because I did. Babs and I both did. Actually we just said, 'Bruce probably has a girlfriend'. We didn't really know who. Not surprised though… not that we spend a lot of time speciplating about your love life." He took a gulp of air. "Okay, I'm done now."

"Good," Bruce felt a headache coming on. "Who else did you or he tell?"

"No one!"

"Alright, the three of us will talk about it tomorrow when we both get home."

"Three meaning you, me, and Jason?"

"Yes."

"Just checking. Okay, I'll keep the home fires burning. Have fun… I mean…."

"Good night, Tim."

"Night." Obviously relieved to be off the hook, the boy hung up.

Bruce slipped the phone in his pocket but didn't have time to contemplate what to do next before he heard a knock.  _Odd_ , he thought since the sound came from the balcony and he was on the last floor of a highrise. Of course there was at least one resident of Metropolis who both knew where he resided and could get there in such an unconventional way. Wondering if his headache was about to get worse, Bruce sighed and opened the balcony door.

"You know you stick out like a sore thumb," he complained.

The man who was arguably the most powerful being on the planet grinned at him in a way that reminded Bruce he was still in many ways just a farm boy from Kansas.

"I don't criticize your wardrobe," Superman commented. "Hello, by the way."

He floated a few feet into the loft, landing softly on the carpet, then before Bruce could even blink, he was Clark Kent again, khakis, dress shirt, and glasses. He smiled again. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Nothing special. You've been coming to Metropolis on and off for the last few months, and I haven't heard so much as a 'Hi. Nice to see you.' If it was me dropping by Gotham so often, I'm pretty sure I'd be getting the full third degree from the world's greatest detective by now."

"That's because you're nicer than I am," Bruce replied without missing a beat, then pointedly added. "You'd  _never_  poke your nose into my business."

"I'm curious," Clark shrugged. "Part of my day job. So?"

Realizing that he wasn't getting rid of his friend that quickly - and privately willing to admit that he didn't necessarily want to - Bruce walked over to his kitchen area, pulled out two bottles of beer from the fridge, and wordlessly handed one to Clark. The Kryptonian looked at the label, and Bruce got the distinct feeling that he was trying not to roll his eyes.

"I can't even begin to pronounce this," Clark making a face of mock annoyance.

"Jahrhundert-Bier," Bruce said, opening his own bottle and taking a sip. "It's Bavarian. Imported."

"Of course it is," his friend smiled. "Why can't you drink normal beer?"

"Because I can have better."

The news was running on the tv on mute in the background, and Bruce listened while his friend told him about the recent developments with the Justice League that hadn't required Batman's presence and also some more civilian stories from the Daily Planet. He was only half paying attention, his mind playing back parts of the entire day, since Jason's arrival but always coming back to his argument with Talia. Clark must have noticed the absent look.

"Watchtower to Batman." He waved a hand in front of his face. "You're a million miles away. Is something wrong?"

Bruce shook his head without meaning the act as an outright denial. He didn't really want anyone to be involved in his affairs, but it had been a long time since he could talk to a friend. Taking another sip of his beer, he asked.

"What's the worst thing your wife has ever said to you?"

If he was surprised by the question, Clark didn't show it. His expression was thoughtful, until he made a face and replied, " 'You sound just like my father!' "

Knowing General Lane, if only briefly, Bruce winced on his friend's behalf then nodded. "That sounds about right."

"Why?" The Kryptonian sounded amused.

"Apparently I sound like Ra's al Ghul."

Clark chuckled, then seeing that he was serious, sobered. "Talia's back, huh?"

"She never really went anywhere."

"But you haven't seen that much of each other for a while," Clark tilted his head slightly in question. "For the last… decade or so, I'm guessing? Did something change?"

"She cut ties with Ra's. I  _think_  it's permanent this time."

"Really?" The Kryptonian raised a brow, clearly skeptical. Bruce couldn't blame him. An uncomfortable number of people knew he and Talia had an unhealthy pattern.

"She did it for our sons. Children tend to… put things in perspective."

"And now you're wondering if there's a chance you can convince her for more."

"I thought there was, but… I screwed up. We both did, but mine was more recent and pretty memorable." His friend laughed again. "What?"

"Do you have any idea how rare it is for… well, anyone to hear you admit you were wrong about something? I'm guessing you conveniently forgot to say this to her?"

Bruce honestly couldn't remember, but he suspected his friend was right.

 


	10. Part X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One reader guessed correctly that Talia's book is The Red Tent. I feel like both she and Jason with his awesome feminist ideals would enjoy it :) This was a bit of a hard chapter to write. It heavily references scenes between Bruce and Talia in both the ending of Son of the Demon and also Detective Comics Annual #1. Also I totally stole... manipulated a line from LotR for Talia. More points for that recognition. Also this may be the last 'happy' chapter in a while, so enjoy it while you can!

The knock at Talia's door came unexpectedly, and she looked up from the book in her hands. She had been half way through it earlier but for Jason's benefit had started at the beginning. Now that it was late and her son had fallen asleep on the couch opposite, she couldn't quite force herself to go forward to her original place in the tome. The knock came again, and she put it down, rose from her place on the other couch, and went to the door.

Unsure of who it could be aside from her neighbor who was far more friendly and outgoing than Talia was used to, she carefully peered through the peep hole. Her eyes widened for a second, but she opened the door as quickly and quietly as she could.

"What are you doing here, Bruce?" she demanded in a whisper. Open floor plan meant that the door was technically in the living room, and if she was too vocal in her annoyance, she would wake Jason.

"We need to talk," he replied, firm but also quiet, as he glanced over her shoulder to their sleeping son.

"Many of this building's residents are LexCorp employees." Talia gritted her teeth and leaned out into the hall slightly to make sure there was no one there. "You should not have come. I would have sent Jason back to you in the morning at the latest."

"This isn't about him," Bruce said then amended. "Not only him. It's about all of us, and I have things to say that I should have said ten years ago. They can't wait any more."

"Obstinate fool," she muttered but pulled her coat from the hook nonetheless. "There is a fire escape stairwell that leads to the roof. I shall meet you there in a few minutes."

Then she shut the door on him without preamble. The rooftop was still not the most private place for whatever conversation he was insisting on, but Talia was not about to wake Jason on his whim. Even if she did, they were  _not_  having this conversation in front of him, and she certainly would not ask her son to leave. Bruce would have to leave first.

Pulling out a large quilted blanket, she draped it over Jason's sleeping form and was just about to leave before he stirred, brow wrinkling in a frown. Leaning down to brush back a curl from his forehead, Talia whispered softly, "Rest, darling. I will be back momentarily."

" 'kay, Mom," Jason muttered without ever opening his eyes and buried his face deeper into the pillow. Talia doubted he was awake enough to realize what he had said.

She was only a moment behind him and upon reaching the roof, Talia was faced with an odd sight of Bruce facing out into the night, dark trenchcoat occasionally being picked up by the cool breeze. She had absolutely no warm feelings about Gotham, but seeing him staring out into a city that was not his own was odd. Metropolis was too new, too bright especially at night, and neither Batman nore Bruce Wayne felt like they belonged there. Talia did not feel like she belonged there either, but for now it was the best option available to her.

Hearing her footsteps behind him, Bruce turned pulling his hands out of the coat pockets running his thumbs over the pads of his middle and pointer fingers in a nervous gesture that Talia had rarely seen. A milder voice in her head suggested that perhaps she should be gentler with him, but she ignored it in favor of crossing her arms under her chest in a defensive posture.

"Well?" she challenged. "Speak."

"Right," he nodded and to his credit, looked directly at her. "This is going to sound incredibly cliche, but I spent most of the time since you left thinking about where we went wrong. Not just today; I mean over the many  _many_  years we've known each other. I kept looking for that one point of no return."

"And you discovered it was lying to me about by dying father?" Talia ventured a mocking guess. "How much detective work did that take, I wonder."

"No," Bruce shook his head. "Years before. We had crossed paths in Gotham on a case involving the Penguin. It was about a month after… after Jason's murder, and sufficed to say I was  _not_ in a good place. I lashed out at everyone and everything in sight, including you."

"I remember." Talia had not known Jason then, but she recalled how the grief of losing him had twisted Bruce. Still she would not allow it to be an excuse. "As I recall, you told me never to dare and call you 'beloved' again. Congratulations: you got your wish."

"Yeah," he visibly winced, "one of my many less than stellar moments. I'll get back to that one. You'd been hurt that day, and with the two of us alone in the hospital room, you'd poured out your heart to me. You'd said that you would forsake your father, come and be with me no matter where I chose. And all I could say was… 'no'."

" _Actually_  spitting in my face may have been less painful," her voice dripped with disdain because, by all the gods, that had  _hurt_! The mere  _memory_  of the night felt like a punch to the gut, and suddenly she was angry all over again, though mostly with the foolishness of her youth.

"You're right," he swallowed. "You didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve me lying to you and to myself, especially since you kept giving me second chances over and over again. I left you after Qayin…"

"I had told you to go," her throat felt suddenly tight. "I had lied to you about Damian."

"That makes it worse!" Bruce protested. "My wife tells me she miscarried, and I just… leave?! What kind of a man does that?"

"One who needs to grieve in solitude," Talia said quietly. She had never blamed him for that. Her own guilt over the lie was too strong.

"Don't." He held up a hand. "Don't make excuses for me. It was a disgusting thing to do, and yet you gave me a second chance with Damian and then brought Jason back to me."

"Then this is… gratitude?" There was not a single part of her that did not hate that word, especially since all Talia could hear was her father saying it. Bruce shook his head.

"No. This is acknowledgment that you kept giving me second chances - not just with the children, but with you - when I didn't deserve them. I took it - took you - for granted, and it wasn't until I spent these last few months hearing nothing but 'Bruce' that I realized full of myself I was. And I can blame it on my self-righteous anger, my grief, whatever else, but the bottom line is I didn't  _deserve_  to be 'beloved'. "

"Do you believe you deserve it any more now?"

"No. Not yet, but I want to earn it back," he said earnestly. "I want to prove to you that your love was not misplaced, and I want to do it right. No more of this running around and hiding. As Jason correctly pointed out, I suck at having an affair, and that's probably because I hate it."

Talia felt her eyes prickle, but she'd be damned if she would let herself cry in front of him, even if his words were exactly what she had always wanted to hear. For Bruce to swallow his pride and speak honestly to her was so rare that she could have likely counted the number of times it had happened on one hand and never quite like this. Still, she was not about to give in so easily.

"I appreciate your honesty," Talia replied coolly. "Truly. If it had come years earlier when I was young and naive, I would have likely followed you anywhere. As it is, we have to work within the reality we are given. Even if my father dies, that leaves the League of Assassins with a power vacuum, and I know neither of us wants the likes of Slade Wilson or David Cain at the head."

"Of course not, but I don't think you want to be at the head of it either. The best thing is to let it dissolve."

"You do not  _let_  the League of Assassins do anything," Talia scowled. "It has been in place for centuries, and has evolved so much so that it is nearly a living entity in its own right. Have you never wondered why my father is called the demon's head? Most of its members are true believers who are not easily dissuaded."

"The Justice League can be pretty persuasive."

"I am not amused."

"I wasn't kidding." He took a step forward. "I realize that this wouldn't be an even arrangement. I couldn't give up Batman or Gotham…"

"I would never ask it of you." Talia objected, offended that he would think she would, but Bruce shook his head again.

"I know. I just want you to know I recognize your sacrifices for us and our family. A leaderless League of Assassins is a problem I will take responsibility for, even if I have to get the Justice League involved."

Talia bit her lip. "What if it was not leaderless?"

"You don't honestly want it." She could not quite tell if it was a statement - and therefore irritatingly presumptuous - or a question, but she replied nonetheless.

"I do not, but I am not the only option. My father still lives, and if we stop whoever is destroying the pits, he will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. At the very least in his hands the League is stable."

Most of the words that were coming out of her mouth were doing so without much prior thought behind them. There were many aspects of her father's impending death that would be liberating. If Ra's al Ghul ever found out that she was directly responsible for returning both Jason and Damian to Bruce against his explicit orders, there would be repercussions. That aside, Talia had many times stated that while she admired his goal of a utopian world, she abhorred his methods. But he was still her father. She loved him and despite some of his more archaic notions, Talia knew he loved her. He would never be what she wanted, but did that mean she wanted him dead?

"You want me to help him?" Bruce seemed to be uncertain about what she was asking. Talia herself was unsure if she  _was_  asking or merely speaking hypothetically, so she said nothing instead waiting to see what conclusion he would come to. He was quiet and contemplative for a long moment, then looked back up at her. "If I did, would he swear to leave us alone?"

Talia tilted her head, amused. "You mean to blackmail the demon's head?"

"Not blackmail: exchange. His life for our family. When he came to me after the boys returned to Gotham, he said that he'd leave Damian alone because Jason had been withheld for so long."

"He relinquished any claim on Damian because he knows he cannot hope to control him without my influence," she pointed out.

"Maybe, but he's kept his word so far."

Talia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. The hour was late, and it was too much. She had no desire to solve - or honestly even think about - all the issues surrounding the league or her father. It felt cowardly, but all she wanted was to curl up in bed, get a few blissful hours of sleep, and then… She could not bring herself to finish the thought and was startled when, with one last step toward her, he took her hands between his own.

"We don't have to figure it out right now. None of these are insurmountable obstacles," he said with rare gentleness. "I love you. I believe you love me. If this is true, our only chance for happiness - for peace - is to be together."

He must have known how those words would affect her. They were her own after all from years ago when she had offered to give up everything for him. He recognized her sacrifice, forgave her past deceptions, and accepted her as she was. Suddenly overcome with emotions, Talia swallowed hard.

"People will not be pleased," she tried. "The Justice League will likely wonder if you have been drugged or replaced by a doppelganger, and Gotham's elite will ask, 'Could our prince not have found a proper American woman to wed?' "

"Because their feelings are high on my list of concerns," he said sarcastically. "The only opinions I care about are those of my family, and I would like to think that includes you. Say 'yes', Talia. Say you'll come back with me."

She had no time to respond to that because he leaned forward and captured her lips, and Talia would have sworn she could feel all of his emotions, his hopes and dreams for them. It was like being in a whirlwind, overwhelming and all-consuming, but perhaps most telling of all was the fact that her first and only thought was to kiss him back with everything she had.

Left gasping for air moments later, she opened her eyes and saw him smiling.  _He already thinks I have consented_. Talia placed both palms to his chest to bring some distance between them without actually pushing him away.

"I will give you an answer," she promised. "But not now. Now is quite late. You should go back."

Anyone else might have thought his face remained neutral, but Talia could see the barest hint of unhappiness. She bit her lip, hoping her next statement was not a mistake.

"Or you can take the second couch."

"I'll take the couch."

Hours later she wondered if the offer was a good idea after all. It was different when he was an ocean, half a continent, or even several city blocks away. Talia could put him out of her thoughts long enough to find distractions, but he was right there! Right on the other side of her bedroom door, and all she could do was lie alone in bed and stare at the ceiling as rest eluded her. How Jason had slept through their return, she had no idea.

Talia glanced at her alarm clock, and the digits spelling out 2:45 glowed a dim blue back at her. She turned away from it, in vain trying to find a comfortable position. Giving up when the clock read three in the morning, she sat up wrapping her arms and comforter around her knees. Pressing her face into the flannel duvet cover for a moment, she sighed. What was the point?

Unsurprisingly she was not the only one wide awake. When she slowly pushed open the bedroom door, Bruce met her gaze in the darkness of the space between them. He was more sitting than lying on the couch, and straightened when he saw her. Opening the door wider by way of silent invitation, Talia waited for him to tiptoe across the living room and closed it again behind them.

Moments later, with his chest pressed against her back, arm securely wrapped around her torso, Talia finally relaxed enough to sleep.

* * *

In his early years twenties, when he'd been busy traveling the world and training, Bruce could recall sleeping in everything from shabby hostels to cold drafty temples and worse. He never thought the worst place to sleep would be a plush couch in a luxury apartment building. Of course it had more to do with the alternative option denied to him, but still he felt ridiculous complaining, even to himself.

He wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't thrilled to be waking up in Talia's bed.

He had woken once again in the absolute earliest moments of dawn. Momentarily disoriented by a place he had never been to before, he quickly recentered himself, focusing on the steady even rhythm of Talia's heart against his palm. She liked to tease him that he just liked her breasts - okay, they were  _very_  nice breasts - but the simple truth was that Bruce liked the feel of her heartbeat, the reassurance that someone he loved was still living.

Content, he slept for another hour or so until she stirred, brow lined with displeasure, and Bruce found it once again amusing that she was not a morning person. Raising himself on one elbow, he leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. Without opening her eyes, she made a face.

"Half an hour?"

"As much as you want," he smiled and settled behind her again.

Less than twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed. Detangling himself from both the sheets and Talia, Bruce reached across to the nightstand on his right, picked up the device, and slid his finger across the screen.

 _There's a distinct lack of bacon in T's fridge so I made strawberry pancakes_. That text was quickly followed by.  _Also there's also no maple syrup._

Bruce threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. Next to him, Talia was now almost completely awake, sitting up slightly. "Is something the matter?"

"No, it's Jason. He's complaining that you don't have maple syrup for the pancakes he made."

"Jason made pancakes?" Her face brightened, and not bothering to ask why Jason was texting him from a room away or how he knew that he was there in the first place, Talia said, "Tell him there is honey in the cabinet next to the refrigerator, and that we will be there in a few minutes."

Bruce relayed that message, and the response buzzed back a moment later.

_Sure. Just please, for the love of all that's holy, be decent._


End file.
